Burning by Light
by binkley2013
Summary: Castle can't just walk away from Beckett after their confrontation in her apartment in Always. What if he reconsidered and decided that he won't let her throw her life away?
1. Graduation Morning

**Disclaimer and Introduction** : The characters aren't mine, and I claim no rights or interest in them. For those parts of what follows that are original to me, they're mine.

Notwithstanding my story **Schrödinger's Kate** providing an explanation for Castle's behavior following the confrontation with Beckett in her apartment during _Always_ (S4 finale), I've never been able to reconcile to my satisfaction Castle's complete lack of action after leaving Beckett's apartment, with Castle being fiercely protective of his family and those he loves. Though it's 'over' and he's 'done' with Kate, Castle totally walking away when he believes she's in a war, only makes to sense to me if you know how _Always_ is going to end. With that in mind, this story is an AU path for Castle in the aftermath of that argument.

This is the first time I'm starting to publish a story without it being completely written. I hope to publish a chapter once a week or so, but don't hold me to that. I'm not a fast writer, and real life has a nasty habit of intruding.

Again, thanks to my beta reader for her time, feedback, and encouragement. Her name has been withheld to protect the innocent. All errors are mine.

 **Chapter 1** : **Graduation Morning**

Alexis' phone alarm woke her at the same time it did every school morning, and she went through her normal morning routine. Today's schedule, however, was anything but normal. There was no school today and she had been up late into the night, working on her valedictorian speech to be given later that day. Still, the maturity and discipline that were often the target of her father's persistent but gentle teasing hadn't allowed her to deviate from her routine. While getting ready, she mapped out her plan for the day, scheduling plenty of time to practice the delivery of the speech and to do some final polishing. She also planned for a nap so that she'd be ready for the all-night party following graduation.

"Oh!" Alexis exclaimed, "sorry Grams." Alexis was looking at her phone while exiting her room, and so almost ran into Martha, who was already in the upstairs hall, headed downstairs. On any morning it would have been rare, but Alexis knew Martha had been up almost as late as Alexis had been. Last night after reaching a finishing point with her speech, Alexis had gone downstairs to get a late snack and found that the rest of her family was also still awake. When she had hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, Alexis saw that her father's office was fully lit, his large touchscreen television on, and heard him and Grams talking. That had been about 1:30 am. Ten minutes later, when Alexis headed off to bed, the office lights and television were still on but things were quiet, and Grams bedroom door was shut by the time Alexis reached the top of the stairs.

Alexis and Martha exchanged good mornings and as they descended the stairs, Martha addressed her son, who they could hear working in the kitchen. "Well, what was so important that you woke me this early?"

Martha got a visual answer when they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner. The dining room table had been fully set, juice and water had been poured, and a fruit plate and a serving tray filled with bacon were both positioned between where the three of them were to sit. Castle was standing over the cooktop, simultaneously working an omelet pan and a griddle. Alexis stomach rumbled with the unexpected smell of chocolate chip pancakes.

Martha was the first to react. "Ah, how marvelous! To what do we owe this all of this? A much too-early celebration of Alexis' big day?"

Alexis followed up, after surveying the spread. "Dad, how long did this take? Have you even been to bed?"

Castle glanced up and spoke, his voice a bit raspy. "I had a lot to do last night, but I got some sleep. Good morning to both of you. Please, let's sit down and eat before all the food reaches room temperature."

While Martha and Alexis shared a pleased but perplexed look, Castle opened the oven to retrieve warmed plates, filled them with food, and carried them to the table. He turned around quickly to retrieve the coffee carafe from the counter, so that he could fill coffee mugs on the table.

Martha reached her seat as Castle was pouring her coffee, and was happy to reach for a favorite that was already waiting for her. "This being a celebration, I would have preferred a mimosa, but the Bloody Mary will do." Taking a sip, Martha's look of anticipation turned into one of disappointment. "A virgin? After my short night, I need something with a bit more oomph."

"Sorry, Mother, any morning but this one," Castle replied as he finished pouring coffee for Alexis.

"Dad, this all looks delicious. Thank you. But why didn't you say something last night about this?" Alexis asked as she sat down.

Martha's eye tracked Castle as he moved around the corner of the table to sit at its head. "Yes, Richard, a bit of an explanation is in order here, don't you think?"

"Please, let's eat."

Martha and Alexis didn't move. Castle picked up his fork, and impatiently gestured to them with a slight wave of his fork. After they had begun eating, Castle also dug in. After washing down his first bit with a sip of coffee, Castle looked up, "After you were both in bed, I invoked the Alas Babylon Protocols."

Martha stopped her fork in mid-flight to her mouth, and set it on her plate. Her expression had turned from questioning to concern.

Alexis' reaction was an eyeroll aimed at her father. "Really Dad? I listened to the radio when I was getting dressed, and there were no reports of a zombie apocalypse. If this is some joke about preventing me from graduating and going off to college . . ."

"I wish it were zombies, that would make the whole thing simpler." Castle spoke between mouthfuls, obviously intent on having a hearty breakfast. "Do remember that subject I told you never to mention?"

Alexis fixed him with a stare. "You need to be more specific," Alexis deadpanned. But Martha already knew what Rick was talking about in light of their conversations the day before.

"Point taken. It's about Beckett's mother."

Alexis' fork clattered to her plate, and her face hardened. "Please tell me you're kidding." Castle knew that whatever fondness Alexis may have once had for the detective, had been eroded away in the last year. Alexis had always been concerned about Castle's shadowing of Beckett, but then her mother's case had become prominent and people around Beckett had started dying. Ever since Alexis had witnessed her father try to take a bullet for Beckett at Captain Montgomery's funeral, Alexis had wished he would walk away from Beckett and the 12th. Overhearing her dad and Grams talking about 'Mr. Smith' and the role her dad was taking on to keep those who had killed Montgomery, from killing Beckett, had left her with a persistent knot in her stomach and the conviction that her dad was in way over his head.

What Alexis didn't know was that after the last few days, Castle had begun to have the same thought.

Martha responded, obviously more up-to-speed than Alexis. "What changed since last night? Did you talk to Katherine after I went to bed?"

Castle ignored Martha's questions, and summed up the situation for Alexis. "Alexis, the man who shot Beckett is back. He killed a man who broke into Captain Montgomery's home, we think to steal some files and an old laptop. Beckett pulled the case before we knew about the connection, but now she knows it's her shooter. Last night I went to her apartment to try to get her to stop her investigation." Castle paused to take another gulp of coffee. "It didn't go well."

Alexis erupted angrily. "Yeah, like you couldn't see that coming. So Beckett's going to do what she wants to do, like always, and you're going to be right there, like always, except maybe this time you do get to take that bullet for her! You're not a cop, Dad, it isn't your job."

The calm, smooth tone of Castle's reply didn't reflect how he felt. "There won't be a 'this time,' or a next one. Last night I told her I was done."

Alexis had other thoughts she had angrily been readying to make, but her dad's announcement knocked the air out of her and she fell silent, as she digested that surprising news.

However, it wasn't news to Martha, who had peppered Castle with questions after he returned from Beckett's last night. "So what's changed since I went to sleep? You didn't say a word about Alas Babylon last night."

"When you went to bed, I was totally out, done. But then I realized that I can't be, not yet." Castle raised his hand, palm out, to stop the objections he could see Alexis and his mother forming. "I'm responsible for all of this. If I'd left everything alone years ago, honored her wishes and not dug into her mother's case, Beckett would have stayed away from the case, and she'd still be safe. But I didn't, and she's not." Castle left unvoiced the guilt he carried about Montgomery being killed and Beckett being shot, all because he couldn't leave it alone.

"I walk away now, it'd be like leaving her to die. She won't quit, and that means neither will whoever had her mother killed. I only see that ending one way." Castle paused, glancing between Alexis and Martha, to make sure Alexis and Martha understood the stakes, and then continued. "Beckett and I may be over, but that doesn't mean I can stand by and let that happen when I can prevent it. And there's Espo and Ryan to think about too. So I'm going to Captain Gates, to get her involved. She'll stop Beckett, and see that the NYPD takes over the investigation."

"Which is way past time," Alexis huffed. "But Dad, why Babylon? Why do we have to leave?"

"Call it an abundance of caution. I don't think there's any real danger, but we think Beckett's shooter is working on tying up loose ends. If he - or whoever hired him – catches wind of the NYPD's involvement, I have no idea what they might do. Best to disappear for a few days, than wish we had."

Alexis had been quietly considering how difficult it must have been from her father to walk away from Beckett. Alexis had known for months that her father was in love with the detective, and that he'd been waiting, taking what she would give him, enough that it made him happy, but always hoping that he'd get the chance for a relationship where his feelings would be reciprocated by the detective. Alexis had seen her father stay no matter the hurt he endured for that hope, due to both the actions and inactions of the detective, so much so that Alexis had begun to consider the detective his obsession. But he said he'd ended the relationship last night. Watching and listening to her father, she wasn't sure that whatever he had planned wasn't just a way for him to walk back from walking out.

"So when are we leaving?" Martha inquired.

Castle stared down at his plate and replied, "Ah, well, this morning."

"What, now!? Dad, tonight's my graduation, and they're counting on me to give a speech during the ceremony! And then there's the party with my classmates. Please, please tell me it's tomorrow morning . . ."

Castle met Alexis eyes. "I'm sorry Pumpkin, but you're leaving after breakfast."

"That's completely unfair!" Alexis exclaimed. "High school graduation marks the end of a big part of my life, maybe the last time I'll see some of my classmates. And now I don't even to that good-bye, to have closure from the ceremony and the celebration after? This _has_ to wait until tomorrow." The challenge in Alexis' questions wasn't lost on Castle.

Castle's tone was apologetic yet firm. "Alexis, you know if I had choice, I would wait. But I can't control this thing with Beckett's shooter, and the more I've thought about this, the more I've concluded that I don't have much time here. Last night I told Beckett about Mr. Smith, and that the deal to keep her safe meant she had to stop, and she refused to quit investigating . . ."

Alexis heatedly interrupted. "So I've become yet another victim of Detective Beckett's obsession. Great."

"You know I've always relied on your maturity, more than I should have asked from you. I need to again, no matter how unfair all of this is to you. I can't keep Beckett safe without maybe putting you two at risk. I have to make sure _all_ of you are safe. So you and Mother go to Babylon, and I get Captain Gates to keep Beckett safe."

Martha suddenly looked very concerned. "Richard, you don't think we're in any danger, do you?"

Castle used some of the acting skills he'd picked up, being his mother's son and growing up around the theatre, to convey the most sincere façade that he could as he dismissed her question. "No, there's no reason to think that. But I need to be absolutely sure the two of you are safe and secure."

Alexis began to object again. "But . . ."

"Just in case, Alexis," Castle interrupted, shaking his head. Alexis could see how badly her father felt over the turn of events, and what Alexis would be missing after four years of hard work. She could also see he wasn't going to budge on his decision.

"You're not coming with us." It was a statement from Martha, not a question.

"Don't worry about me. I'm pulling Gates in right after you leave, and you know she'll play it by the book. The full resources of the NYPD will be working on this shortly."

During the discussion, Castle had continued to eat and had finished. He began to stand and pick up his plate. "You two have about 30 minutes to finish eating and to grab your bug-out bags."

Martha had lost much of her appetite, and had begun to turn her attention to the day and trying to make Alexis less unhappy. "Well, neither Alexis nor I have been to Winchester, so the two of use will just treat this as a dress rehearsal in case we have a real need some day."

Castle had first beefed up the loft's security after Scott Dunn. Then 3XK came along, and Castle had contacted Agent Gray, his old CIA contact, looking for a recommendation for an elite security team. At the time, Castle wondered if being tied up and completely at 3XK's mercy was causing him to over-react. He wasn't sure, but the need to keep his family safe won the day and he began to plan and prepare with the help of the security firm he'd hired. When Beckett was shot, finalizing his family's security became his priority, and he and the security firm had spent hundreds of man-hours continually refining plans and preparation as issues and potential scenarios had arisen. Martha and Alexis were aware that Castle had been working on a family safe house in Winchester, Virginia, but had been purposely kept in the dark about certain specifics because, as the security firm had harped, 'operational security had to be maintained.'

"You'll be going straight there. Sorry to hurry you along, but you need to be ready to leave when the team gets here. I think it's going to be a busy day."


	2. The Departure

**Chapter 2: The Departure**

Castle was almost done cleaning up after breakfast when he heard the clunk-clunk-clunk of wheeled luggage being pulled down the stairs. A few moments later, he glanced up while closing the dishwasher to see his mother coming into view. She'd taken a slight detour to leave her bug-out bag by the loft's door, and now she looked full of purpose as she marched toward him.

Castle hoped to take the initiative, speaking first as he began to wipe down the countertops. "All ready to go? The security detail should be here any minute."

Martha fixed Richard with a look he hadn't seen for more than a few years, the one she used to give teenage Ricky after listening to one of his excuses for missing the night's curfew. "Richard, maybe it's the short night I had, maybe it's the lack of vodka talking, but I'm a bit fuzzy here. Why do Alexis and I need to leave if the NYPD will be on the case? Why can't we get police protection here, or even stay at the Precinct until the concern is over? What haven't you told us?" The concern in Martha's voice matched her questions.

Returning her stare, Castle tried to shut down the conversation he had hoped to avoid. "Mother."

Martha wasn't having any of it, and followed Castle as he left the kitchen for his office. "Don't you 'Mother' me. For an author with a flair for the descriptive, you were using way too many passive verbs earlier, and providing too few details. Are you going straight to the precinct when you leave here? Will Detective Esposito or Ryan be picking you up?"

Entering his office, Castle went straight to one of the chairs in front of his desk, where an over-sized backpack was sitting open. No longer meeting her gaze, he began to rummage around in the backpack, obviously looking for something. "I promise you that Gates will be brought into this before you get out of the City."

Martha positioned herself to block the office door, crossed her arms, and looked at Castle, her eyes narrowing. "You're not answering any of my questions. What are you planning?"

Castle paused his search, and turned to face his mother. His first grin of the morning reached his eyes. "A bit of medicinal bourbon got me thinking last night. After you went up to bed, I poured myself a drink to help me sleep, and considered how over the last few weeks things with Beckett went from bad, to good, then to over. Maybe it was a remark I made to Beckett that her mother's killer had turned this into a war, maybe it was the zombie case reminding me of my Civil War project, maybe the bourbon put me in mind of General Grant, who knows. You remember me reading all those Civil War books? Something in William Sherman's memoirs suddenly came to me."

"Why you ever thought you could build a Civil War comedy around the man who coined the phrase 'war is hell', I'll never understand," Martha said dryly.

"I'll have you know his memoir is considered to be one of the best ever written," Castle replied rather defensively. "But the point here is that when Sherman was trying to convince Grant to let him take his army and march across Georgia, Sherman claimed that being on the offense was a full 25% advantage over defense. Sherman then went and provided it." Castle turned back to his backpack, and stuck his hands in. "I figured, why not repeat history?" An 'a ha' look of success appeared on his face, and his hands moved to grab something Martha couldn't see.

Martha remained silent for a few seconds more, and when she spoke, her voice was a mix of concern and skepticism. "So you think that the best way to keep Beckett safe, is to attack?"

"The strategy worked for the general who saved the Union, so I figure it should work here too." Castle said, as he pulled two overstuffed letter-sized envelopes and one bulky manila envelope from his bug-out bag, zipped it up, and turned toward Martha. "Today, we go on the offensive, and with an army."

"Sherman was once relieved of his command after a nervous breakdown. And you're not military."

Castle ignored Martha's comments, as he grabbed his bag with his free hand and moved toward the office door, stopping when he faced Martha, his face grim. "Whether or not any of us like it, the deal keeping Beckett safe is over. She's got a lead on her shooter, and she's not going to stop for anything, and sure as hell not for me." Castle paused, gathering himself before continuing. "You said it yourself, love isn't something that can be switched off, not even after last night. I won't stand aside until they succeed in killing her. I aim to end this thing, once and for all."

The concern on Martha's face had grown throughout Richard's explanation. "Richard, what makes you think that Gates and the police will succeed this time, or will even pursue a murder from 19 years ago? Katherine was shot a year ago, and the police have stopped its investigation after getting nowhere. She won't wait for long before she'll conclude the police have failed again, and restart her own efforts."

Before Castle began to reply, there was a knock on the loft door, which was quickly followed by the sound of Alexis shutting her bedroom door upstairs. Martha moved from the office doorway, to clear a path so that Castle could answer the front door. But before he moved, he spoke. "If it gets to that point, it won't matter if she does." Reacting to the confusion on Martha's face, Castle continued, "I'm sorry Mother, the less you and Alexis know at this point, the better." Castle finished with absolute conviction. "But I meant it last year when I said I was going to do what I had to, to keep Beckett safe. She's not dying because of me."

Castle went to the door and peered through the peephole. Castle opened the door after recognizing the athletic young man standing outside of his door as Tim Yancey, a member of the security firm that Castle had been working with on Alas Babylon.

After an exchange of short pleasantries, Yancey held out to Castle a duffel bag that by its shape obviously wasn't full of soft items.

Castle glanced behind, and saw that his mother and Alexis were fast approaching. Turning back toward Yancey, Castle said "Is this it?" Castle as he grasped the handle, his eyes never leaving Yancey's.

"Yes, that's it. You've got all we had," replied Yancey, shaking his head slightly, as he watched his two charges approach.

Castle bobbed his head a few times as he set the bag down on a table by the front door, unzipping it. Looking down, the misgivings on his face was partially obscured as he peered inside. The tone of his voice was nevertheless light. "I'll make it work. Thanks, Tim, we'll be with you in a few."

Alexis and Martha, who had been just arrived at the front door, were reversed and ushered by Castle into his office. "In each envelope there's $20,000 in cash and two new credit cards, one in your name and one in your cover name. You'll also find a driver's license with your cover name." Martha and Alexis exchanged worried glances, but remained silent. "Only the cards with your cover names have been activated. 'Felicia,' here's yours," said Castle, handing Alexis her envelope. "'Vesper,'" Castle said as he handed Martha the other. "There's more cash at Babylon. You know where the safes are there, and the combinations." Though neither Martha nor Alexis had been to Babylon, he had shared pictures and video of both the exterior and interior, including the safe meant to be found in a search, as well as the better hidden safes. "You need to stay off the grid. Use the cash first, then the credit cards with your cover name if you have to. Those cards are already activated and can also be used to get cash advances. Don't worry about their limits; you won't hit them. Only as a last resort activate the cards in your own names and use them."

"Dad, you're scaring me," Alexis said in a small voice that reflected the near-shock she was in at this morning's events.

"Yes, Richard, you're making it sound like we need to disappear for a while."

There was optimism on Castle's face and in his voice for the first time that morning when he spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to. If things go the way they should, I'm thinking you'll be back here in no more than 36 hours, 48 tops."

Next, Castle opened up the manila envelope from his backpack, and upended it. Two basic cell phones slid into his free hand. Castle said, "You'll need to give Tim your cell phones. He'll keep them, and given them back when it's safe to use them."

"Wait, is he staying with us? I thought the security team was only dropping us off there."

Castle answered in a matter-of-fact, smooth tone that didn't reveal any hint of concern. "Normally, yes, but since you'll be coming back very soon, I thought it made more sense for the team to stay with you and bring you back. Plus, Tim's very familiar with Babylon, so while you're there, he'll be able to give you an overview of the house, the town, and answer questions you may have about the work we've been doing." Turning to his mother, Castle finished with a crooked grin. "Consider it all something of a rehearsal in case we ever have a real need to invoke Babylon."

Castle held out the phones to Alexis and Martha. "In the meantime, these can be used to call me in an emergency. Hit speed dial #1 and it will dial a phone I'll be using. Don't be alarmed if I don't answer, and don't try my personal cell. I won't be using it. Just leave a voice mail and I'll call back just as soon as I can. But please leave your phones on, so I can call you if I need to."

Yancey, who had been arrived at the office door at the beginning of Castle's phone instructions and had been standing quietly, tapped lightly on the door frame. "I'm sorry, but we really need to go, or the car will begin to draw undue attention." Castle nodded to him, and placed a hand at the lower backs of Alexis and Martha to walk the group back to the front door. Once there, Yancey went through the front door first and closed it behind him, leaving Castle, Martha, and Alexis with some privacy for their goodbyes.

Castle spoke first, having steeled himself to keep his voice steady and strong to avoid causing any further concerns over this morning's events. "I love you both."

Alexis reached for Castle, to be engulfed in his arms and cradled into him. Alexis said, "Dad, I love you too. Be careful, and listen to Gates, please?"

"When don't I?" Castle answered in complete mock sincerity, before concluding in complete sincerity. "Don't worry, I'll be as careful as I can, I promise."

"Kiddo, I know you're doing what you think you have to. Do it, and let everyone can get on with their lives." Martha commanded, her eyes bright.

After final hugs and kisses, they went into the hall, where Castle stood as he watched Alexis and Martha head for the elevator with Tim and another member of the security detail. Alexis stopped and abruptly turned. "Don't forget to call the school, to apologize that I won't be there tonight."

Castle replied with a nod and a smile. "Got it. I'll put it on the list of calls I need to make. Love you, be careful, and I'll call just as soon as things are clear. Soon as I can, I promise."

After the elevator doors closed, Castle was alone, satisfied that the first step of his plan had been completed. Well, he had to admit to himself, it wasn't exactly the first step he had initially sketched out last night or he wouldn't be by himself. He had wanted a security specialist with him for the duration. When Castle hired first the security firm, it had committed to having three specialists available for Castle on 12-hours' notice. It had been less than half of that time since his late night call to the firm. During that call, the firm had only been able to guarantee the two who were now protecting Alexis and Martha, and had told Castle it would try to find a third member for the team before morning. Castle's security firm had alternatively offered to subcontract the assignment to another agency, one Castle had never heard of. Castle had passed on that alternative, concluding that a lack of security for him was better than security that Agent Gray hadn't recommended, while hoping a third specialist would be found in time. Castle's exchange when greeting Yancey had dashed that hope.

Castle turned, and went back into the loft to finish packing up so he'd be ready to leave. As he walked back to this office, he quickly convinced himself that the lack of security for him really amounted to a slight change, something that had been purely an overabundance of caution. Last night when a third security specialist had become doubtful, he had begun re-working his plan in the event that the day became more of a solo mission, and he was starting to be convinced that the modified plan that he was still thinking through could be just as safe, possibly even safer.

But now, it was time for a few calls that would set in motion the remainder of his evolving plan, one that he hoped would put the lie to the Derek Storm catchphrase that had been borrowed from Agent Gray: "Transparency gets you killed."


	3. Calls

**Chapter 3: Calls**

Captain Victoria Gates, called "Iron Gates" by some but never within her earshot, was sitting at her desk reviewing printouts of case volumes, status reports, and closure statistics, for both her 12th Precinct and the other NYPD precincts within the borough. Gates hadn't once been the fastest woman to ever make detective by being outworked by her competition. True, she didn't find the paperwork and other administrative duties as interesting in the same ways as she did her previous work as a detective or an Internal Affairs investigator, but that didn't mean she still wasn't outworking her competition for a future at 1PP. That meant Gates' typical day started at her desk no later than 45 minutes before the morning shift change.

Gates was thirty minutes into her review, penciling in notes and questions for follow-up, when her concentration was disturbed by the ringing of her office phone. Looking up, she read the Caller ID display. Her lips twisted in annoyance as she reached and hit the speaker button.

"You've misdialed, Mr. Castle," Gates answered in a flat, distracted tone, as she returned her attention to productivity comparisons between precincts.

After a few seconds with no response, Gates spoke again. "Am I keeping you from something by answering your call?"

Castle started, and sought to make amends. "I'm sorry Captain, didn't hear you answer. I was finishing up something else. A lot to do today."

Gates bristled at the implication that her time was less valuable. "As do I. Perhaps we should both hang up and get on with our days."

Gates didn't like him to begin with and he needed to get this conversation back on track, if his plan had any hope of success.

"I apologize, Captain, but I need just a few moments of your time. Have you seen Detective Beckett this morning?"

Gates looked at her phone, sighing heavily and giving it the scowl that would have been directed to the caller had he been there in person. "Mr. Castle, I'm going to hang up now so you can call her . . ."

"Please sir, this is very important. You'll find it well worth the couple of minutes I need."

Gates peered over the tops of her glasses, through the blind slates of her office windows, into the bullpen, and took a good look. "I haven't seen her this morning."

"Good, I'm not too late." Castle paused, and the slightly shuddering intake of air Gates heard Castle take would later remind her of someone about to dive into cold water. He spoke in a rush. "The suspect in the Orlando Costas murder was also the shooter at Captain Montgomery's funeral."

"Excuse me?" Gates replied, all traces of the previous disinterest in her voice gone, as she picked up the phone's receiver. Over the last year Castle had observed Gates use that expression to convey any one of multiple messages, depending on the inflection given and the context when used. Sometimes she used it to elicit more information from the speaker, other times to give herself an extra few seconds to process what she had heard, and, of course, at times because she simply hadn't heard what had been said. Then there were the times when she used it to convey a severe adverse reaction to what she'd heard, a form of challenge daring the person to repeat what had been said. Castle dismissed the more pleasant possibilities due to the drop in temperature he could feel through the phone.

Castle answered her implied challenge with more information. "Late yesterday the DNA lab test on the skin tissue taken from under Costas' fingernails came back, and it matched the DNA taken from the rifle used to shoot Beckett. No question, and no other match."

It was Gates' turn to take a deep breath, though this was the kind taken while counting to ten. "So you're telling me that the person that killed Orlando Costas also shot Detective Beckett, is that right?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"Hmmm. Is Detective Beckett aware of the match?" Gates asked, the control and silk in her voice at odds with the dangerous undercurrent in her question.

Castle had anticipated that Gates would go immediately to that question, and he had been wrestling with how not to answer her. An affirmative answer from him might end Beckett's advancement within the NYPD, or maybe even get her fired. He decided to play to his strength, and hopefully avoid Gates asking more questions he wasn't prepared to answer. "You know, I'm fuzzy on that point. I think the report came in real late in the day and ah, I didn't stay long yesterday, and I've been really distracted this week because tonight is Alexis' high school graduation and she's supposed to speak . . ." Castle stopped talking and was met with silence. However, he had watched Beckett draw information out of many suspects by being quiet, so Gates' silence wasn't unexpected. Still, it was a bit unnerving.

The silence was also useful. Taking advantage of the momentary break, Castle used to his free hand to reach out to a second cell phone, check the final versions of a couple of messages one last time, and hit "Send."

Realizing that Castle wasn't going to fill the silence, Gates spoke, this time in a lighter, more questioning tone. "Well, do you know if anyone on her team is aware?"

Castle wasn't about to implicate Esposito or Ryan either. "The report came in late, so I, ah, couldn't say."

"Uh-huh. ' _Couldn't_ say'," Gates repeated, drawing out the "couldn't" to emphasize she had noted its use.

During her conversation with Castle, the Captain had continued looking out into the bullpen, and she was now watching Beckett taking determined strides through the Precinct. Gates could see that she was headed toward a conference room. The room had its blinds shut, but Gates had already decided that Esposito and Ryan were in there, so whatever might be going on, was continuing not 50 feet away. She knew she needed to get to that conference room. However, she also wanted an in-person opportunity to question the writer about the Costas investigation soon.

Adopting a more conciliatory tone that Gates hoped would help her achieve both, Gates sought to wrap up the call quickly. "Mr. Castle, thank you for the call and the information. I do believe the two of us will need to talk further about this. What time can I expect you in the office this morning?"

Castle mentally concluded Gates question by adding 'said the Spider to the Fly.' "That brings me to the second reason for calling. Please consider this call the termination of my consulting position with the NYPD."

"Excuse me?" This time the expression was used by the Captain to provide some time to process news she never thought she'd hear.

"I know the documents I signed when I started probably have some more formal notice process. Most of the contracts I've signed do. I'll have my attorney take a look and send whatever's technically required by the end of the day. But with this call, I'm officially done at the 12th Precinct. Captain, I know my presence was forced upon you, and I apologize that's the way it happened. I hope at some point you came to see my contributions to the team were a greater benefit than my presence was a burden to you or the rest of the Precinct. Outside of my daughter, consulting at the 12th has been the best, most important thing I've done with my life. It's truly been an honor."

Gates was so taken aback by both the news and then the sincere emotion she heard in Castle's voice, that the anger that had been building was momentarily forgotten. "Thank you Mr. Castle, I'll accept that on behalf of the Precinct, and make sure to pass that along. Can you share with me why you're leaving now?" Gates had hesitated before asking the question, wanting to get to the conference room where Beckett and team were, but she was genuinely curious and thought his answer might provide some insight that could be immediately useful when Gates got to the conference room.

Castle gave the Captain the call's first completely honest answer, knowing what had happened and what was to come. "I believe if I haven't already overstayed my welcome, I will have shortly. No one wants to force a host to tell them the party's over and it's time to leave. Believe me, for me it wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm sure I don't understand why you think that, so maybe that can be another topic of our next conversation. I trust you've already told Detective Beckett and her team?"

"Beckett knows. I'm sorry Captain, I won't take any more of your time and really, I have a busy day in front of me. I promise that if tomorrow you want me to come in and talk, I will. I'll owe you that." There was a lengthy pause, and Gates thought Castle was done but just before she could get off the phone, Castle had a final message. "Sir, I'm trusting you to do your duty. Please don't fail her."

Gates was now more confused, plus a bit offended by the implication that she might not do what her job required. But fail her? Presumably 'her' meant Beckett, but fail the detective how? "Mr. Castle, what the hell is going on?"

"Thank you so much for taking this call." The line went dead in Gates' ear.

* * *

A few minutes earlier, and fifty feet away from Gates' office, Beckett charged into the conference room where Esposito and Ryan had set up, blinds drawn in hopes of avoiding Gates' attention.

Ryan glanced around, and was perplexed. He didn't see Castle, and he'd been inseparable from Beckett during the Costas investigation. "Where's Castle?"

"He's off the team," Beckett replied in a tone that didn't brook any follow-up questions.

Ryan and Esposito exchanged an apprehensive look, quickly enough that Beckett didn't have to take note of it.

Beckett got right to it, with the same flat voice. "So what do we got?"

Esposito launched into the briefing of what he and Ryan had found since yesterday. "Eastway rented 700 cars last Wednesday."

"We believe our suspect is going under the name Cole Maddox. He rented out of JFK," Ryan added.

Esposito continued, "It's a Kansas driver's license. Now, we did some digging. It's a cover ID."

"Did he return the car?" Beckett asked, hoping that the lead was still hot.

Esposito gave her the answer she was looking for, and more. "No, but . . . Eastway maintains GPS tracking on all of its equipment, so we tracked it to the lower east side to a one-block radius somewhere along here."

"All right, you stay on grid. Let us know if he moves," Beckett ordered Ryan. "Esposito, you're coming with me."

Ryan, alarmed by what was happening and how quickly, sought to slow it down, for at least a discussion, if not a different decision. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing? You want to do this, you do it right. You put a team on that car and you bring backup with you."

Beckett's whisper belied the force behind her response. "Ryan, this whole thing started because of a group of corrupt cops. How do you know there aren't more out there? We're about an inch away from catching this guy, and I'm not gonna blow it by advertising our next move."

The discussion was interrupted by Esposito's personal phone vibrating and buzzing in his pants. Espo was doing his best to ignore the phone, but then Ryan's phone chirped. Glancing at each other, Espo dug his phone out of his front pocket, while Ryan began to reach into his jacket to retrieve his.

Espo read the text, once, then again, before asking in confusion, "Do either of you recognize 917-555-0004?" Getting a shake of Ryan's head and stony silence from Beckett, Espo began to read the text aloud. ' _Gates knows about DNA match.'_ At that point, Ryan joined in, reading with Esposito the identical text message, but from Ryan's own phone. _'Only knows I know, but not how I know or who else knows. I'm sorry, no choice._ '

"I got it from the same number," Ryan finished, if that wasn't already obvious.

"Castle. It's got to be from Castle. _That son of a bitch_." Beckett snarled. Esposito and Ryan both startled, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing, at the raw emotion she directed at the man both had thought of as their boss's best friend, with the real potential of much more. "This doesn't change a thing, except we've got to go right now."

Beckett turned and took a step toward the open door to the conference room, just as Captain Gates arrived. She'd left her office confused and with several questions after her conversation with Castle, but as she scurried to the conference room, she'd shelved her questions for later. She was now back to full-on angry.

Beckett had no difficulty reading Gates in a flash. The anger was coming off of Gates in waves, and Beckett knew none of them were going anywhere, at least not right now.

"Detective. My office. Now." Gates commanded, before she re-focused her gaze on Espo and Ryan. If anything, her voice grew harsher. "You two, don't leave this room until you get my express permission."

* * *

Robert Weldon was again wondering what good it was to be mayor if it didn't keep him from getting stuck in traffic. Riding in the back of the official limousine usually made time in traffic less wasteful and more pleasant than when he'd been a Council member. He had hoped that the way-too-early-morning prayer breakfast would be over in time to get back to City Hall before traffic had really picked up.

That hadn't happen. The limo hadn't moved more than a car length over the last 5 minutes when his personal phone rang. That meant he was more likely to have a conversation as "Bob" and not as "Mayor Weldon," and about a topic other than his mayoral responsibilities or politics. These calls the Mayor looked forward to, so he was smiling as Bob took the phone out of his jacket's interior pocket. The smile disappeared when he didn't recognize the calling phone number. He slide the "Reject Call with Message" icon to direct the call to his voicemail with its basic, number-only message.

A few seconds later, his phone rang again, same calling number. The phone hadn't chirp to alert him to a voicemail, nor was there a voicemail icon on the display. He re-directed the call again.

There was a longer interval before the caller tried again. There was still no voicemail chirp or icon to indicate that a voicemail had been left after the second call either. _He's persistent_ , the Mayor thought. Maybe it was the hour or the boredom from being stuck in traffic, but Mayor Weldon decided to answer to let the caller know he was dialing the wrong number and stop the cycle.

Using his 'best' New Jersey impression to prevent the caller from recognizing his voice, the Mayor answered. "Yo, s'up?"

"Hello?"

"Who ya callin'?

"Bob, is that you?"

"Ricky! Man, you gotta ask for McCheese. Only you call me that, and I'd have dropped the Jersey Shore audition."

"Wrong type of call for that, Bob."

"Ooh, that sounds a bit serious for you. First, how's my 'niece' and Martha? And that gorgeous Detective Beckett you've been only 'shadowing' for way too long?"

"I'm calling about Laura Cambridge's murder." The Mayor instantly went quiet and still, and Castle continued. "We know that someone orchestrated the murder, and the other scandals around you, to smear your reputation and prevent a run for governor."

"Are you telling me you know who? Who was it, Rick?"

"No, I don't know," admitted Castle. _At least not yet_ , he thought. "But we're going to start shaking things up, and you might get a shot at seeing who's turning the wheels. I want to make sure you don't miss the opportunity, if we get that lucky. Maybe get your reputation back. You're meant for more, Bob, and maybe that can become possible again."

"The police have re-opened the investigation? About time, but I haven't heard a word. Damn 'em, I've told the Commissioner and the DA that I needed to be kept informed of any developments in that case, especially if it might hit the press."

"It's not that case, Bob. There's another investigation that I expect will go public very soon, that might draw more than its share of attention."

"OK, what's it about?"

"I think for both of our sakes, that's all I should say."

 _Plausible deniability_ , thought the Mayor. _Explains why Castle didn't call using his regular phone._ "Alright, Ricky, I won't push. We'll do it your way this time."

"Appreciate it, Bob, I just wanted to make sure you weren't blindsided, and that you know to look for the bigger picture. I'm already behind on today's must-do list, so I've got to get going. But thanks for asking about Alexis and Mother; both are well. Detective's another story, but that'll have to wait for another day. Take care."

"You too, Rick. Thanks for the head's up." The Mayor hung up, already deep in thought on how to quietly prepare to be ready for whatever was coming.

* * *

It took longer than Castle had planned for his next call to be connected to the person he needed to speak with. His call was transferred three times, and the person finally had to be paged to pick up the call.

"Hey, it's Richard Castle. . . . Yes, finally, and can't believe I didn't sooner . . . . Trust me, she's been quite vocal about it . . . That's why I'm calling. I'm offering a special today, and today only . . ."

* * *

Castle had been watching the clock during his calls, and he was already running late. Plus, he wanted to be gone from the loft in case Gates decided she wouldn't wait until tomorrow to talk and send an officer to bring him in for questioning. He dialed the number for the last call he had to make before he left.

[ _Ring_ ] . . . [ _Ring_ ] . . "C'mon, pick up." . . [ _Ring_ ] . . . Castle heard the call transfer to voicemail. "Damn it," Castle muttered.

After waiting out the voicemail greeting, Castle left a message, the urgency plain in his voice. "We need to talk, as soon as we can. Please call the number you've used before, and leave a message with times you'll be available. I'll call back with this same number. I'll be checking messages at the bottom and top of the hour. Call soon."

* * *

A phone that didn't generate Caller ID rang a phone that had a number very few knew.

Knowing only one person would answer, the caller started talking the moment the call was answered.

"You asked me to call if I heard that he headed for the hills. Well, he hasn't, but his mother and daughter have."

"When?"

"Just this morning, after calling in the middle of the night for a security team."

"Huh. How many?"

"He asked for three, got two. One Special Forces, one Ranger. Both stayed with the redheads; no security with him."

After a few seconds, the man who had answered the phone spoke again. "Well, sounds like that might turn out to be a problem for him."


	4. By George

**Chapter 4: By George**

It was only fifty feet to Gates office, and maybe a total of 30 seconds before Beckett found herself standing across from Gates, her desk between them, office door closed. In that span, Beckett had finally settled on how to position this with the Captain, an approach she hoped might keep her and her team in the investigation and away from any disciplinary action. For it to have a chance of working, Beckett needed to be her usual, matter-of-fact self so in that half minute, she worked on swallowing as much as she could of her anger at Castle and her frustration at not being able to follow-up on the lead on her shooter. She didn't swallow much, and it didn't go down far.

Beckett's approach needed her to speak first. "Sir, I trust this won't take long, my team and I have a solid lead on a suspect, and . . ."

Gates angrily cut her off. "Detective, I just got off the phone with Mr. Castle. He told me that the DNA pulled off of Costa matches the DNA from the rifle used to shoot you last year."

Gates stopped there, giving Beckett a chance to volunteer an admission that she'd violated an express order.

Beckett didn't say anything, and gave Gates a look that indicated that she wasn't following Gates' point and conveyed an "And . . .?"

 _OK, if that's the way you want to play this,_ thought the Captain. "Detective, were you aware of that test result?" she asked bluntly.

"Of course. Result came back yesterday afternoon."

Gates was surprised at Beckett's unequivocal answer and her normal tone in light of her clear insubordination, which served to make the Captain angrier. "Do you remember what I told you on your first day back last fall?" Gates demanded, her voice raised. "Because I sure do, and I don't think I could have been clearer."

"Sir, I remember exactly what you told me, and I've followed your orders precisely to the letter. I am _not_ investigating my shooting. I'm investigating _only_ the murder of Orlando Costas," Beckett replied, adding emphasis to highlight the distinction on which her position depended.

"Don't play cute with me, Detective," Gates shot back, dismissively. "You were shot at Montgomery's funeral, _and_ Costas broke into Montgomery's house, _and_ DNA from the same unknown person was found both on the sniper rifle used to shoot you and under Costas' fingernails. Are you telling me you don't see a connection?"

The delay being caused by this conversation had Beckett's anger and frustration rapidly coming back up. Beckett tamped them back down; she had to make her case that she and her team had done nothing wrong, and that the Costas murder investigation could and should stay with them. Looking for something familiar, something that would provide a measure of distance and comfort, she tried to shift into the mode she used in dissecting theory. "I see that there _might_ be a connection. The DNA test I ordered was performed to try to identify the Costas suspect, and _nothing_ else. The result unfortunately didn't identify the suspect, other than the Costas suspect is the same person who _might_ also be a suspect in another shooting. But the DNA result from Costas doesn't mean that this person killed Costas, or that the DNA on the rifle means he was the shooter. Maybe he was both murderer and shooter, maybe he was one but not the other, maybe neither. All we have now are possibilities." Beckett added urgency and some of her frustration to her voice, before finishing. "Which is why my team and I need to chase down our Costas suspect now before the trail goes cold."

Gates could hardly believe that the youngest person ever to make NYPD detective had actually said what Gates had heard. "You're telling me that the matching DNA is a coincidence, or there's some innocent explanation?" Gates challenged.

"Sir, I'm not a big believer in coincidence, but you and I have both seen detectives pre-judge evidence and later turn out to be completely wrong. I go where the evidence leads," Beckett echoed.

"I'll bet if Mr. Castle were here, he'd have a different take on the DNA match."

Beckett glared at Gates for a few seconds, before responding through a clenched jaw. "He's not here."

"Detective, were you going to telling me this morning about this 'possible' connection?"

"Sir, if my team and I are able to apprehend a suspect in the Costas murder - the murder we're _assigned_ to and the _only_ one we're investigating - and that suspect's DNA matches the DNA of any suspect in any other investigation, you would have quickly been informed."

Gates began to respond heatedly, "Not good enough, not nearly . . ."

But Beckett had reached her fill of yet another back-and-forth dance. Since yesterday afternoon, too much had happened, and she'd had too many conflicting emotions, too many highs, too many lows. First, exhilaration at the solid progress they were making in tracking her shooter, then the crushing blow of Castle admitting his betrayal and ending their partnership (or whatever it was they had been and might have eventually become), followed this morning by the growing anticipation of locating and maybe apprehending her shooter this very day, only to have Castle betray her again and have Gates block her from pursuing it. And now she'd spent the last minutes getting nowhere with Gates, while the suspect she had hoped to be hunting at this very moment was free and could simply vanish again. Since she'd been ordered into Gates' office, Beckett had tried to keep a lid on her rapidly increasing frustration and anger, but it had been a losing battle. And the combination of last night's lack of sleep and this morning's coffee consumption to try to compensate by over-caffeinating, wasn't helping. She desperately needed to do something to pursue her shooter, and instead she was having a debate.

Simply unable to hold back any longer, Beckett began to speak loudly over Gates. "And I also would have officially informed the lead investigator assigned to that investigation. Except that would be impossible here. Because the last I was aware, the investigation into the shooting of an NYPD homicide detective at the funeral of her murdered captain was COLD-CASED after only a few months . . ." Beckett's voice had started out loud enough, but it had risen in volume until she was on the verge of shouting. Beckett paused to take and release a quick breath, gathered herself as best as she could, and lowered her voice to an almost conversational level, before she spit out the rest. "So no one, absolutely no one, is looking for _my_ _goddamn shooter_."

Gates was shocked by Beckett's outburst, not having seen anything remotely close to that from the Detective. Seeking to defuse the situation, Gates spoke slowly and, she hoped, soothingly. "Detective, you know how this works. Every lead we had had been followed to exhaustion, there was nothing else to go on, and the resources were needed elsewhere. When I made the decision to close down the investigation, it was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances and done strictly by the book. If a suspect in the Costas murder or any other investigation matches the DNA from the funeral, your shooting will be re-opened." Gates thought Beckett was calming down while she was explaining but whatever progress Gates thought she was making, it was lost when she continued. "Your case wasn't buried, Detective, it was treated like any other case."

Beckett immediately flared up again, her tone harsh and clipped. "Well, maybe that's _exactly_ the problem. I put myself on the line every day, push as hard as I can to get justice for the victims, and what do I get when the situation's reversed? I close cases, while my case got closed down." Beckett caught herself again, realizing that she wasn't helping, and that they were still wasting time they didn't have. Settling herself and shaking her head, she spoke calmly but with no less urgency. "You know, none of this matters right now. Right now, my team has a lead on where our suspect might be, and we need to leave now with backup to catch the bastard. I, uh, we can't lose him to the wind."

 _Again_ , thought Gates. "Detective, on that we're in agreement. We won't lose him. But there's no way I'd let you continue with the Costas murder, especially after this morning. The case is being re-assigned."

Beckett vigorously objected. "Sir, you can't, I have _not_ violated your orders and respectfully, Captain, . . ."

"Decision's been made; that discussion is over." Gates' expression visibly softened as she continued. "Kate, I understand how you feel, but this is a case you can't be involved in, and would be trouble you've not known. When we find your shooter, the DA won't need the complication of the arresting officer also being the victim. What you and your team need to do now is give your full and complete cooperation to the new lead of the Costas investigation." Gates moved out from behind her desk, to open the office door and take a step out. After looking around and seeing the person she was looking for, Gates called out, "Detective French, my office please."

Gates moved back into the office, to await Detective French's arrival. She took advantage of the brief moment. "Mr. Castle terminated his relationship with the Department this morning. Care to tell me why?"

This was definitely another topic that Beckett needed to avoid, so she gave Gates the short answer. "The standard reason for a failed partnership. He didn't trust me, I don't trust him," she responded, as Detective French walked through the door of the Captain's office.

Gates considered Beckett for a few moments, and then turned to Detective French. "As of this minute, you're lead on the Costas investigation. Whatever you're working on, shelve it. Detective Beckett and her team have a lead on a suspect who is also a suspect in Detective Beckett's shooting. Detective Beckett and her team will brief you. Pull whatever resources you need, but get out there and bring back that suspect, Detective French."

As the detectives moved to leave the office, Gates had a parting thought. "Detective Beckett, if you think my prior orders left you with some wiggle room, let me be as clear as can be. You are not to go anywhere near your shooting, and that includes in any other investigation you've been assigned. If you do run across any thread, any hint of anything even remotely possibly related to your shooting, you're to stop immediately and report it to me. And if you think these new orders are unclear on any point, in any context, that involves your shooting or its investigation, you must get clarification from me. Are we clear on this now, Detective?"

"Yes, ma', uh, sir. Clear."

"Oh, and today you are not to leave this floor without checking with me first and getting my permission. Still clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Now, get to work helping Detective French get your suspect."

* * *

Gates watched Beckett and French head for the conference room that Detective Esposito and Ryan hadn't left. It wasn't an hour into the morning shift, and Gates had already had a long list of unanswered questions, and the answers she had to other questions felt incomplete. But she was also perplexed by how stressed and emotionally unsettled Beckett was. In her year at the 12th, Gates knew of no less than two incidents where Beckett's life had been in serious danger, including one in which she and her now-former partner had almost drowned in a submerged car in the East River. There had never been a hint that she'd been anything but cool under fire, nor had Beckett exhibited any stressful signs after any of her near deaths. Plus, there was no one in more control than Beckett in the stress of the interrogation room.

Yet this morning, barely any control.

Gates considered and quickly dismissed that it was due to Castle's leaving. She hadn't been blind to the rocky period that Castle and Beckett's partnership had gone through over the last few weeks, at times appearing all but estranged. While Beckett hadn't been her usual self during that period, she was nothing like she'd been this morning. Gates had thought whatever had been going on between the Detective and Mr. Castle had been resolved a couple of weeks ago. At least they had seemed back to normal - for them - until the murder of the man who had robbed Roy Montgomery's house. Beginning then, Beckett had looked increasingly stressed, and Castle concerned. And then the DNA result had come back, tying the Costas murder to Beckett's shooting, and now Castle and Beckett were finished and he'd up and quit.

 _What is it about this investigation that's caused all of that, and has Beckett like this?_ Gates thought. _There's obviously a bigger picture I'm not seeing, and information that Detective Beckett's team is withholding. And somehow it involves Roy Montgomery_. Gates had decided months ago that they were likely covering up something that would tarnish the late Captain's reputation. She ran through some of the questions that she thought were in urgent need of answers. _Why would the sniper apparently go from shooting the Detective, to robbing Montgomery's house? And why exactly was Beckett shot at Montgomery's funeral? She couldn't have been randomly targeted at the funeral, but why no further attempts on her life? What's behind all of this?_

Gates had been so deep in thought that she hadn't realized she was drinking cold coffee. She did now, so she headed to the breakroom to remedy that.

As the Captain neared the breakroom, she saw Officers Velazquez and Johnson waiting on a new pot to finish brewing. Apparently, like her, the officers didn't go for whatever came out of Castle's over-complicated coffee contraption, and were looking for a simple cup of coffee. She slowed her approach, and began to pick up their conservation.

"Yeah, that was great final minute last night, but I'm beginning to think they're all fixed. . . . Hey, have you seen Beckett this morning? She's in a state, don't think I've ever seen her like that. Yellin' at the Captain like that?" Officer Velazquez chatted.

"Me either . . . well, maybe once. Right after she shot the guy who killed her mother right over there," responded Officer Johnson, gesturing toward the area with his head.

"Really, right there?"

"Yep, what a strange afternoon that was. I don't think it was the first person she shot, but man, she immediately ran to the guy, Coonan, and began CPR if you can believe that. Me, if I'd just shot my mom's killer, I might have hurried over so I coulda watched him bleed out. Maybe do a happy dance. Be damned if I'd lift a finger to save his ass." The coffee had finished brewing, and after filling her own cup, Officer Velazquez motioned with the coffee pot to Officer Johnson to hold out his mug. "Thanks. Plus, Coonan was holding a gun to that writer acting as her partner, so no question Coonan was justified. Don't know what possessed her to try, but Detective Beckett kept working it, trying to save her mom's killer, way after he was gone. And then she broke down. I mean, really broke down. Weirdest thing I've ever seen on the job, and I've seen some things," Johnson finished.

Velazquez had noticed the Captain standing just outside the breakroom door, apparently not wanting to intrude. "Captain, can I pour you a cup? Fresh 'n' hot."

Johnson turned to see Gates standing there. "Uh, sorry, Captain."

Gates stepped forward and held out her coffee mug. After it was filled, she sought to shut down any idle chatter, in light of what she hoped out be a major arrest today. "Thank you, Officer Velazquez. Today's not a good day for gossip, Officers, and I'd appreciate it if you would spread that word."

Gates headed back to her office, again lost in thought over the situation as she walked and sipped. Along the way, she realized she needed to refresh her memory on the Beckett shooting before the suspect with the matching DNA was brought in. Once Gates had rounded her desk, she picked up the phone and called down to Records.

"Records, Officer Jackson."

"This is Captain Gates. Would you please pull the file on Detective Katherine Beckett's shooting from last year?

"Sure, you want me to walk it up later?"

"No need, I'll send Officer Tate right down to get it. Thanks." Gates had already taken the phone away from her ear, when she had a sudden thought and quickly moved the receiver back in position. "Wait, Officer, you still there?"

"Yes, Captain, still here."

"Can you also pull the homicide files that have a Hal Lockwood as the suspect? It's an alias, so might be officially filed under John Doe. All would have been from the last two years or so. Probably all closed, maybe last year."

"Hmm. I'll need to look, any closed file might have been sent to archives. Whatever's still here, though, those files probably gotta be a lot to carry."

"I'm sure Officer Tate will be able to manage. Thank you, Officer."

 _Sure, no reason to let me out of the basement_ , thought Jackson, hanging up.

* * *

Five minutes later, Jackson was sitting on a little stool, three file boxes setting on the counter, when the elevator doors opened and Officer Tate walked out, pushing a cart.

"Hey Jesse, how's it going this morning?"

"You know, Tate, same ol', same ol'."

"What'cha got for me?"

"I pulled Beckett's file, and the closed files for Captain Montgomery and John Raglan. Don't have Gary McCallister's file; the prison's outside of our jurisdiction. I'll start the request process, since it's for the Captain. May need her to help at some point."

Officer Tate quickly went through the sign-out process for the boxes, and loaded them up and headed back to Gates' office. After Tate disappeared behind the elevator doors, Jackson reached for his personal cell phone and dialed. _This time, I'd do it for free_.

After a couple of rings, his call was answered. "Hi, Jesse. Got something for me?"

"Hi pretty lady. Yep, hot off the presses, something you might be particularly interested in. The 12th's Captain just called down to have some files pulled this morning, one involving Nikki Heat herself. The file on her shooting, and the others where the guy they figured killed Roy Montgomery was the suspect. Seemed kinda urgent, they couldn't wait for normal delivery."

"Hmm, that is curious, but not what I'm working on." She paused, wanting to get the details right. "You say the Captain called down for them? Doesn't sound like they're for pretty boy, from everything I've heard about how the Captain hates him. Those files probably have a way better story to tell than what the press reported at the time – 'The Real Story of Nikki Heat' - but no way I could beat Castle to the punch on that story. Guy's got a front row seat from that lap he sits on. Still, something to consider I guess."

"So how's your day going?"

"Not off to a good start, you caught me headed for the door. I'm already going to be late for an appointment. Sorry I have to go, we'll have to catch up next time. Look for a little thank you in the mail next week. And who knows, if I end up thinking of a way to use any of those deaths in the bestselling novel I'm working on, I'll name a character in a story after you. . . . Gotta go, I'm even further behind now. Have a good one _Mister_ Jackson," she finished in a flirtatious voice.

"You too, _Miss_ Wax. Talk with you later."

Lee went over to her bookcase, and pulled the book where she kept the number on a slip of paper. Not that the main number was unlisted or otherwise unavailable to the public; the number belonged to a public interest group. Or, at least that's how it presented to the public. Lee figured the group was probably a front for a political action committee or maybe an agency that did ops research for politicians. Whatever its purpose or motives, the group had made it known within the 'true crime' writing community that it was interested in stories of possible police misconduct or other possible city official corruption, and that the group was also willing to share possible story leads when it came across information that it couldn't use. Lee's motive in dealing with the public interest group was purely selfish – she was looking for anything or anyone that gave her an edge or opportunity in achieving the kind of breakout success she knew was in her future. In short, Lee and the public interest group had a common interest in gathering, sharing, and trading info, and being owed and owing favors. Lee kept the number in the book – and off of her phone - because she didn't want to be easily linked to the group.

It wasn't like Lee Wax ever had difficulty finding a source or two in police stations; her problem was finding the ones who could do her the most good. In any precinct, there were always police officers who thought that they hadn't advanced as fast or as far as they should have given their talent and years of hard work, that they had lost out to favoritism and office politics, and were happy to talk, especially with the right incentives and sometimes with a certain kind of attention.

The 12th was no different, but when she 'innocently' let slip that she wasn't a fan of Rick Castle's and implied she might have a grudge she was looking to satisfy, she was surprised at the number of volunteers. Those disgruntled police officers had seen a civilian take a detective opening that should have gone to some officer who had earned that position, through years of hard, dangerous work, done at all hours, during holidays, and in all kinds of miserable conditions. Instead, the civilian had shown up at exactly the right time – because he'd been a person of interest in a murder! - and had eliminated the open position with his mere presence, which he owed purely to his personal relationship with the Mayor. Everyone also knew he'd only stuck around because the detective he was shadowing was Kate Beckett (which, depending on the officer, was cause for indignation of one type or another, or simple jealousy that it was the writer who got to work with easily the hottest detective on the force). Plus, if those weren't reasons enough to dislike the guy, he was a millionaire Page Six staple who was increasing his net worth by millions as well as his celebrity because of the glorified ride-alongs that the 12th had been forced to accommodate. In short, there was overwhelming motivation for more than a few unhappy police officers to share information with someone who might be able to take Castle down a peg or two, or maybe even embarrass him or provide enough negative press that Castle would get kicked out of the 12th.

Eventually, Lee had found Jesse Jackson, a records officer for the 12th. He was in a perfect position to provide all types of information that might serve to accomplish her purposes – info that might lead her to a best-selling book like Cynthia Dern's certainly would have been if Rick Castle hadn't interfered, or info she could trade upon like she did with the public interest group. And if she could use info coming out of the 12th to repay Rick Castle by finding a story he missed or – even better – getting to market first with a story he was also working on, well, it would be extremely sweet to exact a bit of revenge on the man who had ruined her perfect setup with Cynthia.

Lee hadn't lied to Jesse about her reaction to the info he'd brought to her; she thought the 12th's Captain simultaneously pulling the files about Detective Beckett's shooting and Montgomery's killer was definitely curious. _Maybe re-opening the case or better, there's a new lead,_ she thought. She couldn't use the tidbit in her writing though. Maybe the public interest group might be able to use it to cause Rick Castle or those around him with some measure of discomfort. After all, she liked it best when her targets had no idea she was manipulating events. And with the mayoral election little more than a year away, any information she ran across about City government, especially the NYPD, definitely had a freshness date, and the sooner she shared, the more likely it would truly be news, and the greater favor she'd accrue.

Lee sat down on her couch, one leg folded under, and dialed the number.

* * *

 **A/N:** The Records officer was named after Jesse Jackson, a friend I met because of Castle. Jesse was a co-host and the 'bus driver' of _Storming the Castle,_ which was a weekly podcast that recapped and discussed Castle episodes that I discovered sometime during Season 4. He's now podcasting _Next Stop Everywhere_ (a Doctor Who podcast), and _Set Lusting Bruce_ , a podcast about Bruce Springsteen, his music and mostly his fans. Jesse's name was used with his permission, which is good, because the real Jesse is a much, much better person than the Records officer.


	5. Moving Day

**Chapter 5: Moving Day**

Beckett stopped as soon as she and Detective French were in the conference room to deliver the news to Espo and Ryan. Beckett noticed the two were still working the case, clearly searching the Internet for hotels and other possible places that were close to the GPS location of the rental car, locations where Maddox might be found. _Even after that Gates encounter, they still have my back_ , she thought with fierce pride mixed with humility. _No point in sugar coating this_. "The Costas investigation has been taken away. Detective French is now in charge."

Espo erupted, "Gates can't . . ."

"She can, and she did. I made my case, didn't matter, and it doesn't matter. The objective's still the same except now our job is helping Detective French and his team get our suspect."

Ryan chose to shake his head to indicate his reaction, while Espo refused to give it up. "The collar belongs to us, we've done the hard work to find the perp, we should be the ones slapping the cuffs on the guy."

"Later, Espo, enough time's already been wasted. Let's catch the guy first, then we can argue about the credit."

Beckett and her team spent the next minutes briefing Detective French about how they'd identified the suspect and his use of an Eastway rental car, the false name and driver's license of the person who had rented the car, and the area where the car had been tracked to. After that factual briefing, Beckett needed French to have an idea what he was up against. "Don, you and your team need to know we got DNA off of Costas that matches DNA from the rifle that was used to shoot me at Montgomery's funeral. That's why it's not mine anymore. If this Cole Maddox is that person, he's extremely dangerous – possible military training, no problem with killing a cop, skills to disappear in a cemetery full of police. Your call, but I'd make sure you have the right team to go after this guy."

Espo recognized the opening Beckett had created, and ran to it. "French, if he's ex-military, I'll know how he thinks, what he's likely to do. I want to be in on the search, if that's alright with Beckett."

Ryan stood up, looking between French and Beckett. "Me, too. Kinda invested in getting this guy."

Detective French looked at the pair, standing together, and considered the situation. The fact that their suspect was also the suspect in Beckett's shooting put everything in a new light. The request was obviously, in part, an attempt to be Beckett's eyes and ears in the hunt for her shooter. At the same time, the two of them basically had worked and thought about the case for months and probably would have information and insights that his team wouldn't have, and that would definitely be a benefit, maybe critical given how dangerous Maddox might prove to be. But he didn't need any freelancing out in the field, or anyone following an agenda different than the one he set, or someone could get hurt, even killed. That meant he couldn't take both, or he'd risk the two of them going off on their own, so that meant one, and that really wasn't a decision given his concerns.

"You're in, Ryan, if the Captain and Beckett will allow it. Esposito, sorry, I can't use you."

Ryan's reaction was immediate. "I'm not going without my partner."

Esposito wasn't surprised that French hadn't taken both of them, and for the very reasons that French hadn't. But one of them was certainly better than none. "It's OK, bro. One of us needs to be there, helping to keep this from going any further south."

Beckett started toward the door, as she seconded Esposito. "Kevin, don't make me order you. I'll go clear this with the Captain."

Less than two minutes later, Ryan was on the elevator with Detective French's team on their way to the area where Ryan and Espo had tracked the Eastway rental car.

* * *

Castle finished setting the loft's alarm system, giving the place one last look. Satisfied that he couldn't remember anything else that he wanted to do, he dialed down to the building's doorman.

"Eduardo, can you do me a favor, and go to the garage and check my sedan, see if there's a small package on the passenger seat, maybe the dash? I think that must be where I left it. I wouldn't ask, but I'm running late and need to jump in the shower. If you can look and let me know either way, I can quit looking around here."

"Sure, Mr. Castle, happy to help."

"Thank you, Eduardo, you're a life saver. Oh, and if I don't answer, just leave a message."

As soon as Castle pressed the "End call" icon, he hurriedly picked up the now almost full duffel bag that Tim Yancey had brought, slung a garment bag over this shoulder, and left the loft, locking its door behind him. Quickly making his way to and down the emergency stairs, Castle reached the ground floor landing and cracked opened up the door to peek into the lobby. It was empty. _Worked like a charm_ , Castle happily thought as he threw the door open. He swiftly moved out of the stairwell and into the lobby, pulling the door shut behind him, and then fast walked through the lobby and out the front door, making a right turn once out.

He wished he could walk the mile to his first destination on this picture perfect morning, to burn off some nervous energy, but he was on a schedule and had to do some shopping that he already had little time for. He flagged down a cab after a couple of blocks.

Eduardo returned to his station without having seen the package anywhere in Castle's car. He called Mr. Castle's phone, and after ringing several times, it went to voicemail.

* * *

Beckett and Esposito walked the team to the elevator, with Espo offering suggestions and answering questions, up until the elevator door closed, cutting off the conversation. Beckett had been quiet the entire time, listening intently but saying nothing. In truth, Esposito had half expected Beckett to jump into the elevator at the last moment, or maybe head down the stairs, to take a more active role in hunting Maddox. She instead seemed satisfied with staying put at the 12th.

As soon as they were safely back in the conference room, door closed, Beckett spoke as she began pacing. "She's reading my file. When I went back in there to get permission for Ryan, Gates had the file on my shooting on her desk, open. There were a couple of other boxes, too. I think at least one was on Lockwood."

Esposito spoke, the exasperation clear in his voice. "You want to tell me what the hell's happened? Yesterday afternoon, we're making good progress, my boy and I work overtime to track Maddox down, and this morning it all blows up. Castle's 'off the team,' Gates knows about the DNA, the case gets pulled, and we're stuck in a conference room."

"Castle betrayed us, that's what happened. Javi, he's been working for the people who killed my mom."

"He what?! You can't believe that, not for a second."

"He admitted it to me last night. He's been working to keep me from pursuing my mom's case, to protect my mom's killer."

"But that's crazy. He's worked that case hard for months, even after you disapp . . . uh, were away healing last summer."

"Gates told me this morning it was Castle who told her about the DNA." Beckett paused and shook her head slightly. "Betrayal seems to be a thing for him."

"Hold, one second. Your mom's case was buried, the person behind it all free and clear, until Castle dug it all back up. And he paid $100,000 in cash, that one time thinking that would expose the person behind your mom's murder. What was all that about, if he's been working for them?"

"He claimed that he only started last fall. But since he admitted he's been lying, no telling if that's the truth or if he's been working for them even longer."

"Did Castle explain why, what changed? I woulda bet anything that he'd be the last person to turn on you."

Beckett wasn't about to get into Castle's claimed reason for what he'd been doing. "It's worse. Castle actually met with someone who knows who's behind my mother's murder."

" _What the eff_?!"

"Yeah. Hell, Castle could've met the dragon himself from what Castle told me. This whole thing would've been over, Javi, we'd have had my mom's murderer arrested by now. Instead, because of what Castle's done, we're sitting in this conference room while my shooter gets away again."

"Wait, you think Castle delayed our investigation so he could warn Maddox?"

"Maybe," Beckett started, before backtracking a bit. "You know, I don't know. There's just no way Castle's running all this interference this morning, while my shooter is just sitting around waiting to be arrested. I'm betting there's no way that French and Ryan are coming back with my shooter."

Beckett and Espo lapsed into silence.

Esposito began pondering the last few days' events and his past interactions with Castle, in light of what Beckett had said and, just as importantly to him because he was a detective, what she hadn't said. It had been glaringly obvious that Beckett had ducked his question about Castle's reason for keeping Beckett from restarting her investigation of her mom's murder. _Musta been something pretty big to flip him, convince him to do the one thing he had to know would end their partnership or whatever the hell they were_ , Javier thought.

After a few minutes of internal debate over possible reasons that could be that big, Espo stood to leave but also figuring it might possibly provide a slight psychological edge over the seated Beckett when asking a question. "Are you gonna tell me the reason Castle gave for keeping you away from going after your mom's killer?"

Since each had retreated to their own thoughts, Beckett's head had been bowed, and she'd been motionless, focusing on her breathing, hoping to calm both her racing thoughts and emotions while riding out the rest of the adrenaline spike she'd had earlier. But at Espo's question, Beckett whipped her head around to glare at Espo. " _Nothing_ excuses what he did. Javi, my whole life since she was murdered has been about bringing her killer to justice. Castle knows that's the most important thing to me, and he still made the choice to work against me. So no, because whatever motivation he claims, it doesn't matter, not to me, and doesn't change what he did."

"Hmm." _Definitely something to talk over with Ryan, definitely ask Castle if we get the chance_. "One thing I don't get is why he didn't text you to warn you that Gates knew about the DNA. Like he wanted to put you in some kind of perjury trap with Gates, while staying in my and my boy's good graces." Espo began to walk toward the door. "I don't think Gates meant I had to stay here and piss myself and even if she did, I'm not going to. I'll be back in a few. Get us some coffee, too."

To Espo it looked like it was all Beckett could do to muster a nod and mutter a soft "Thanks," before she bowed her head again. A few minutes after she'd been left alone, she pulled her personal cell phone out of her pocket, and a glance reminded her that she turned it off as she was entering the Precinct this morning. She hit the on/off button, and when it finishing booting up, there was an immediate ding, signaling the receipt of a new text message. Beckett saw that text had come from the same number as Esposito's and Ryan's texts, but the message seemed slightly different in a vaguely familiar way. 'Gates knows _about DNA match. Only knows I know, but not how I know or who else knows. No choice. I'm very, very sorry._ '

* * *

"Welcome to the Notte New York Palace, how may I help you?"

"Reservation for Castle, Richard Castle." Castle slid his credit card across the counter in the clerk's direction as he finished.

"One second please. . . . I have it. A Deluxe Corner Suite, for two nights?"

"That's right. I really appreciate you being able to accommodate the last-minute reservation, and the early check-in, too."

The clerk picked up Castle's credit card, and inserted it into the chip reader. "No problem at all, Mr. Castle, we're always willing to extend ourselves for a guest such as yourself. If you ever have an issue with making a reservation, please ask for the manager on duty. They'll be glad to help."

"Maybe you could help me with one last request I forgot to mention when I called. Do you have a room close to an emergency exit, not more than a door or two on the right when leaving the room?"

"Let me see what I can do . . ."

"My daughter's idea. I travel a lot, and she thinks there's no way I'd ever remember where the exit is if there's a fire in the middle of the night. She decided I needed to get a room where I'd always have the same evacuation plan. One less thing for her to worry about, so I indulge. Sometimes I wonder who's the parent, you know?"

"I do have one room like that, it's not a Deluxe Corner Suite though, and not much of a view."

"That's OK, I don't plan on looking out of the window much. So, have you read any of my books?"

"Well, no, but I do read the papers, and I've followed your 'exploits' for years." _Rick Castle, in-town hoteI room on short notice? Yeah, checking out the 'window' view ain't in the plan_ , thought the clerk. "One or two keys?"

"I'll be needing two, please. Any problem if I want to extend it for another night or two? Not sure yet."

"No problem at all. Just call the front desk as soon as you know you want to extend. Right now, I'll put you down for 2 nights only." The clerk removed the credit card from the chip reader, and held the card out to Castle, who took it. Then, holding the room key holder open and sliding it across the marble counter, the clerk said, "Here are your two keys, I've written the room number right there. Would you like some help with your luggage?"

"You know, I would with one piece, if someone can bring it right up. I need to get the clothes in it hung up. Oh, can you press something if it needs it?"

"Certainly, sir," replied the desk clerk, motioning to the bell captain to come over. "Just dial zero and tell the operator what you need, and it'll be done. Enjoy your stay."

* * *

Detectives Curt Robison and Barbara Ashby, satisfied looks on their faces, hustled across the street, back to where French, Detective Boyle, and Ryan were standing. Ashby started the report. "The doorman at the Residency Hotel across the way ID'ed the car."

"And the front desk clerk confirms that Mr. Maddox is here on a one-month lease. They've agreed to let us in his room," Robison added.

French narrowed his eyes, looking toward the Residency, and asked, "Did the clerk say Maddox's month is up, or that he's been evicted?"

"Nope, he's still checked in," Robison replied.

French thought out loud. "Hmm, we haven't found the car, which means he's hidden it or he's gone. Do we know if he's in there?"

"Clerk doesn't think Maddox's in the room, so we have to hurry," Ashby urged.

French made an easy decision. "Whoa, whoa, slow down. We're not going in Maddox's room if he's still a guest. Or don't they teach you all search and seizure basics anymore? Courts decided way before any of you were born that we can't search the room of a hotel guest, not without a warrant or the guest's consent. If hotel management just lets us in his room, nothing we find can be used. _Everything_ gets tossed."

"So we're gonna stake out, until we get a warrant?" asked Ryan, looking both impatient and cautious.

"Yep, this one goes by the book." Ryan looked relieved, but French could see Ryan wasn't entirely comfortable with the relative lack of action, probably concerned over how Beckett might react when she heard, so French tried to remove any misgivings. "Listen, if this guy is half as connected as what Beckett implied, he won't have an appointed lawyer from Legal Aid. He'll have some high-priced talent. If this gets handled in some kind of fast food, slick ass, Persian bazaar manner, everything we find in there, plus whatever we build off of it, the DA won't be able to use, and maybe Maddox walks scot-free. That ain't making Beckett, Gates, the DA, or anyone happy. No, we play this straight, no shortcuts. Besides, it's my call so it's on me. "

French addressed Ashby and Robison. "Get back over there and thank the clerk for the offer, but tell him we're not quite sure this Maddox is our guy. Also, tell the clerk and the doorman we need them to get relief, go do something else, take a break, whatever, just so they're somewhere else if Maddox comes back. They could give the game away if Maddox notices something different. Then get in your stakeout positions."

French turned toward Ryan. "Ryan, you get outta sight, and call Beckett. Ask her and Espo to prepare the warrant application, and to get a judge lined up. Then get in your position."

French then addressed the group. "Everyone clear?" French returned the nods he received, and dismissed them. "Let's go. Be sharp, but don't look it, or be seen, and let's bring this guy home."

* * *

Castle had barely gotten to his room, when there was a knock at the door. A bellhop was there, with Castle's garment bag.

"Mr. Castle?"

"Yes, bring it right in. Can you please hang it in the bedroom closet?" Castle followed the bellhop to the bedroom, where Castle set down the duffel bag and the bellhop hung up the garment bag.

The two returned to the main room, where Castle ushered the bellhop out of the hotel room while handing him a $100 tip. "I appreciate the help. I know it might not seem like much, but boy, I was working up a sweat carrying that bag."

"You're welcome. We here at the Notte are always happy to help. And please, if you need anything else, call the bellhop station and ask for Ed."

"Thanks, Ed, I'll do that."

The bellhop leaned forward and spoke _sotto voce_. "My mom and ex-wife really love your books. Me, I like the Nikki Heat covers. Yowza."

Castle was able to marshal a slight chuckle. "You're not wrong about Nikki. Always great to meet a fan, Ed."

After closing the door, Castle went back to the closet, slid his clothes out of the garment bag, and hung up the black leather jacket, the dark blue shirt, and slacks so that each hung free in the closet. He then took out his toiletry bag from a zippered pocket on the outside of the bag, went to the bathroom, and spread out its contents.

Castle checked his watch, and saw that he was late in checking voicemail. He went to the room's desk where a phone sat, and dialed the access number for his voicemail. Once answered, he punched in his phone number and then his PIN. "You have one new message. First message . . . 'Mr. Castle, this is Eduardo. Sorry but . . .'" _Damn_ , Castle thought as he deleted the message and returned the receiver to its cradle, w _here are you_?

Castle went back to the bedroom to change clothes. A few minutes later, after checking his look in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, he exited the suite and found the stairs, one door down, on the right.

* * *

He stood in the middle of Richard Castle's loft, having first performed a sweep that had confirmed that no one was there. He had surveilled the building long enough that he had concluded Richard Castle was almost certainly not at home, but he convinced himself that he might be able to pick up Castle's tracks by searching the loft. Getting into the building and avoiding the doorman hadn't been difficult, and with what he knew about the alarm system, he as much as had a key to the loft's front door.

On his sweep of the kitchen area, he'd discovered why Castle's cellphone signaled indicated he was in the loft. There was a cell phone on the counter, turned on and password protected, plugged into a charger. _Not the worst. Easy, simple, and might delay for a bit anyone that was good enough to track his cell phone, longer if they tried to crack its password_ , he admitted to himself, a bit chagrined. _And if someone grabbed it to try somewhere else, phone could be tracked. Nothing in that phone I could use, but I bet he's reset it so it wouldn't tell anyone anything except a few hours' worth of missed calls. Maybe I've taken him too lightly._

He surveyed the loft as he stood there, thinking that maybe he couldn't just search the obvious places for clues where he might acquire the object of his pursuit. _Tasteful and somewhat understated for a person of his means_ , he concluded, trying to get a feel for the man from his home. After a minute of two, he decided to start with the obvious first and headed to Castle's office. It bore all the signs of someone having left hurriedly, but nothing on the desk provided any hint of where Castle might have gone. He spotted the location of the hidden safe and after finding it locked, dismissed it as likely not worth the time it would take to crack it. He quickly turned his attention to the shelves and Castle's book collection, which prominently featured all of Castle's own titles, but also favored old editions of Ian Fleming's Bond canon and some from Castle's contemporaries. He skimmed the shelves, slowing where he thought there might be a hiding place, pulling out a book or two here and there, lingering over the various family photos and those of Castle's career highlights, looking for something that might put him on Castle's trail.

After exhausting the office with no results, he performed a search of the master bedroom and its bathroom. Finding nothing in either, he moved into the main living area, glancing up the stairs and dismissing the thought of any further search there. He finished his search in the kitchen and main living area. _Nothing_ , he concluded. All and all, he hadn't taken long and was content with the thoroughness of his search. He was also oddly not disappointed to find Castle wasn't going to be as simple as he had expected.

He eased out of the loft, resetting the alarm behind him. _One dry hole; on to the next one_.

* * *

The object of the man's search plopped down, breathing a sweaty sigh of relief. Castle had had to finish in a run, but he made it, just as the doors had begun to close. _Right on schedule,_ he thought, having found a fairly isolated seat on an empty row, affording him work space and a seat for his backpack, and more privacy than he had thought likely.

Before he's breathing had returned to normal, he was interrupted. "Sir, your ticket please."

He looked up to see a conductor, holding out her hand, looking bored at the routine.

Castle smiled at her, while he began to reach into his back pocket for his wallet. "I need to buy one, work barely left me enough time to make the train as it is."

The conductor gave him a quick once over. "You were working in that?"

"Yeah, I did," Castle said, playfulness in his voice. "I figured if they could force me to come to the office this morning for some last-minute bullshit, I could damn well wear what I was already gonna wear today if they'd have let me leave last night with my family for our vacation."

The conductor chuckled and shook her head. "You must have been a hit at your office this morning. A bit cool this morning for those shorts and that t-shirt. So where to?"

"Virginia Beach, where I should have woke up this morning."

"One-way or roundtrip?"

"One-way; coming back with the family."

"I'll need a credit or debit card, with a current ID."

"Can I pay cash? My dad always told me, don't buy anything you can't pay for with cash. But if you need a credit card, I can do that," said Castle, shrugging his shoulders while opening his wallet for his driver's license.

"Cash is OK if you have exact change. $99."

"I think I can do that . . . if you usually pay cash, you tend to have a lot of change." Castle had to dig into a front pocket for a wad of bills to find singles. "Yep, here you go."

"Thanks. Here's your license back, and here's your ticket. Validated all the way."

"Thanks so much."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams. I hope the rest of your day goes better."

"Nothing could make me happier. Oh, sorry, can you point me to where I can find the WiFi info?"


	6. From Plan A, to Ain't Exactly Plan A

**Chapter 6: From Plan A, to Ain't Exactly Plan A**

Gates was on the phone with Detective French when Beckett stormed in, stopping right in front of the Captain's desk. Gates locked eyes with Beckett but otherwise did not acknowledge her presence, and continued her discussion with French, never giving him the slightest indication that anything had changed. After a few minutes, Gates wrapped up the call. "He's running, so let's not be slow here. Make sure the techs know that anything from the scene gets top priority in processing. If they push back, ask them who Captain Gates needs to call. . . . Agreed. . . . Keep me updated, Detective."

As soon as Gates began to take the receiver from her ear, Beckett, who had been visibly stewing since she'd entered the office, energetically launched into a tirade. "I knew it, I knew the moment that this went outside my team, that we'd lose our suspect. All they're gonna find in that room is more DNA from our suspect, DNA that doesn't match anyone except the DNA from my shooter. We needed Maddox, not another dead end. And thanks to you and Castle, Maddox is gone."

Gates ignored the accusation, and kept her voice level. "I take it you got your own call from the team executing the warrant, so I'm going to presume you know as much as I do."

"If you mean that I know we got nothing – that the room was empty, Maddox didn't leave anything, the rental was abandoned a few blocks away - yeah, I know tons," Beckett replied sarcastically. "One thing I do know – that someone this morning tipped off Maddox. Ryan said our suspect was seen at the hotel this morning, everything normal, no indication he was leaving, and then he's gone when French and the tactical team executed the warrant. Maybe an hour between when Maddox was last seen, until French and team arrived at the Regency. The only people who knew we were on to Maddox are on this floor, or at the scene." _And Castle_ , a quiet voice in her head reminded her. Staring unblinkingly at Gates, Beckett stated, "I knew I couldn't trust anyone outside of Esposito or Ryan."

Beckett didn't get a second pass from Gates. "Detective, are you implying that I'm obstructing this investigation? Because if you are, you've crossed the line into insubordination."

Beckett leaned forward, and put her hands on Gates' desk. "That's the problem, isn't it? How do you explain what happened, sir? I was obviously right that I couldn't trust anyone else on this case. Hell, yesterday I believed I could trust everyone on my team, and now I have a smaller team." Beckett stood back up and with one hand, reached to her belt, and with the other, to the small of her back. "Maybe it's time to quit the team, figure out something else." Beckett plucked out her badge and Glock, and placed them on Gates' desk.

Gates coolly considered the situation. "Pick up your badge and gun."

Beckett stood immobile, head down, face obscured by her hanging hair, looking at the symbols of her position and authority, symbols she'd earned in order to pursue her mother's killer.

"Detective, you have a couple of options here. One, you pick up that badge and gun, I forget you put them down, and we get on with finding Mr. Maddox. Or else," Gates said as she gestured to her desk where the files on Beckett's shooting and Montgomery's and Raglan's murder were open, "I order you held for questioning on all this, including the Costas investigation."

Beckett slowly looked up, the irony tasting like bile, speaking low through clenched teeth. "All I've been trying to do is to get answers, and every time I turn around, I've been blocked. Lockwood, Maddox, Castle, . . ." _You and Montgomery_ , Beckett thought, and the finished. "You have no basis for holding me for questioning on any of this."

"I disagree, but either way Detective, you're not walking out those doors anytime soon," Gates stated matter-of-factly, leaving no doubt that she meant it. Gates softened her voice. "Wouldn't it be better for the time to be productive for all of us?"

"So if I'm not a cop, I'm little people? Not exactly what I expected from a captain who earned her bars and nickname during her time in IA."

"That's not it at all. Same rules apply to everyone, but they apply with special force to the police. Has to be that way, or it's all 'who watches the watchers?' So no, the rules still apply to you if you quit – you'll get no pass from me either way. I just happen to think that the department is better with you than without, and we're more likely to solve the Costas murder, and get Maddox, working together. Your choice, though. As you consider which way this goes down, you should know that I agree with you – we have an informant somewhere."

* * *

Castle had settled onto the 95 Northeast Regional, laptop out, ready to go to work, but it was time to check his voicemail again. This time, the call-back he had been waiting for was there, the message short. "I will be available at 11."

A few minutes before 11, Castle moved to the aisle seat to hopefully prevent the clickety-clack of the train tracks from being heard over the phone. While he switched positions, he did his best to look casual, stretching, arms over his heads, twisting like he was trying to loosen up his back, so he could see if anyone was close enough to eavesdrop. There wasn't.

Castle took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. The moment wasn't lost on him. People could live or die on how well this call went. And since he'd decided on this course of action last night, he hadn't had much time to go over what he needed to say, or how best to say it.

 _No pressure_ , Castle thought as he dialed Roy's mysterious friend. His call was picked up in the middle of the first ring.

"Is there some reason for us to speak again, Mr. Castle?" Roy's friend said, with the same calm, in-control voice Castle had heard in all their interactions, no hint that Roy's friend thought anything was amiss.

"I can't stop her. I even told her about you, about the deal that was keeping her safe, and she still refused to stop."

"Then I can't control the situation, and they'll stop her. Permanently," Roy's friend replied smoothly, as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather.

"I know. But I don't think she'll be the _only_ one," Castle responded, his voice rising at the end for emphasis.

"There've been no threats against you, Mr. Castle."

"Not me. _You_." Castle paused for a beat or two, to make sure that registered. He continued after dropping the volume of his voice to ensure that Roy's friend would have to focus and listen closely. "The way I see it, whoever's behind this – let's use the dragon – thinks he's almost home free after Roy's dead. He's finished killing all those who could name him, could testify as eyewitnesses with personal knowledge against him - Roy, Raglan, and McCallister - all dead, and all by the dragon's own hand. No one else left. The dragon figures he can kill both Beckett and her investigation at Montgomery's funeral, and that'll also draw away anyone looking into Roy's death, at least long enough to give him the time and freedom to find and burn the evidence that Roy held over him all those years. The originals, documents and whatever forms of physical or circumstantial evidence Roy had, that the dragon had been threatened with, that had kept Beckett safe and probably Roy and his family, too. Soon, he thinks, I'll be free and clear of the last threads tying me to my past."

Castle's in full storytelling mode, speaking almost hypnotically. "But while the dragon's waiting for things to calm down after the failed attempt on Beckett, before he can make his next move, he's contacted by a man he doesn't know, who now has what Roy had. The dragon's surprised to find out Roy had backup, that Roy took all of that evidence and mailed it off to a friend before going to his death in that hangar."

As Castle's speaking, he sees a teenage boy enter his train car from the front, walking toward where Castle is seated. _Sit upfront, don't come this way_ , Castle silently prays.

"And now that friend wants to make the same deal that Roy did. But Roy's friend, he's had to expose the fact of his existence and what he now possesses, to the dragon." _C'mon, kid, stop._ "And to make that deal, maybe Roy's friend has to admit he knows who the dragon is, and what's in the materials Roy sent." _Dammit._ "Uh, excuse me for a second," Castle said before putting a hand over the cell phone's mic, and fixing the teenager with Castle's best fatherly stink eye, one that clearly communicated that the teenager needed to move on.

The teenager never looked up from his smartphone as he walked right past Castle, oblivious.

"Sorry, I'm back," Castle apologized before restarting. "Or maybe that didn't happen. Maybe Roy's friend doesn't know who the dragon is, maybe somehow Roy spared him from being exposed to the dragon's identity and even what information Roy sent. But to the dragon, it really doesn't matter. Roy's friend has a treasure trove of damning evidence, maybe the last thing outside of the dragon's control that can tie him to Johanna Beckett and all the other murders. Evidence that's likely the only real thing the dragon fears. Oh, Beckett's tenacity, her obsessiveness might give him pause, but really she's in the dark. It's only the evidence that's truly dangerous."

Castle could hear that the mystery man was still there, his breathing a steady rhythm but at a faster beat than before, so Castle plunged deeper into his story. "The dragon knows he needs to eliminate that evidence once and for all. But the dragon's also in the dark because he doesn't know who Roy's friend is. The dragon realizes that the best place, maybe the only place, to look for info leading to Roy's friend is at Roy's home. So where before the dragon had planned to use the distraction of the investigation into Beckett's murder to break into Roy's for the damning evidence, now he'll look there for the next best thing – anything that will lead to the person with that evidence. You."

Over the noise of the train, Castle couldn't be sure but he thought he heard a pronounced swallow from Roy's friend before he spoke. "Nice story, Mr. Castle, but that's all it is - a story."

"I don't think so," Castle retorted. He began to speak faster as he needed to press the mystery man, to persuade him of Castle's chain of reasoning. First, though, Castle wanted to give Roy's friend due credit for figuring out the motive for the break-in, so he understands that this whole idea is really his; that realization would only make Roy's friend more receptive to Castle's conclusions. "The more I've thought after our earlier conversation, the more I think you're right, that this is a clean-up operation. Then I asked myself, what's to clean-up at Montgomery's place? He can't think Roy would have left anything at his home that would have put Evelyn and the girls at risk. Anything Roy thought was valuable he sent to you. But the dragon hired Costas to break in, and he only took some files and Montgomery's old laptop. Looking for leftover info about the dragon, maybe some still retrievable files, that might, _might_ , explain the laptop. But files? Why would the dragon think there's anything valuable in either place? What is the dragon looking for? The only answer that makes sense is he was searching for info that will tell him who _you_ are."

"You don't know that," replied Roy's friend with words that carried more conviction than his voice did.

Castle pushed back, pressing his case. "There's always a story that makes sense of everything, and a search for you and what you possess does exactly that. Anything else I can imagine – and even for my profession, I have quite the imagination – doesn't make sense. Breaking into the home of a murdered police captain would be incredibly risky, could result in a relook into Roy's case, maybe a deeper look at Lockwood. For the dragon to risk that, and then to cover his tracks by _killing_ Costas and ensuring a murder investigation instead of a routine, single-day B&E 'investigation,' well, the dragon had to be searching for something extremely valuable. Eliminating the possibility of a few stray files no one was looking for can't be the motive."

Roy's friend stayed silent. _Yes, rethink the situation_ , Castle tried to project with his mind, as he kept talking. "And, of course, even if you overnighted to the dragon everything Roy sent you, that wouldn't end this. The dragon needs you too. Whether you really know the identity of the dragon is beside the point now. The dragon can't leave someone out there who might know who he is, much less someone who'd already used that information to blackmail him and might do it again. The dragon coming for you, and he'll be there just as soon as he figures out who you are. And now he's working with Montgomery's personal files."

"Interesting story, Mr. Castle. Let's say you're right, that I'm one of the targets of this clean-up operation. I have the means to just disappear, and leave Beckett to her fate."

"You could try, I suppose," replied Castle, trying to keep out of his voice his growing excitement. Roy's friend was considering his options, which meant he'd at least begun to accept Castle's premise. "But we're both seen what the dragon's been able to do. Out on your own, seems to me that should scare you. He'll have just as much power, access to hired killers, and resources that he does now. You think you can outrun that, stay at least one step ahead? For how long? The police aren't looking for the dragon, he's been at this for almost 20 years, and by all accounts he's grown stronger. I wouldn't bet on him tiring in the search for you."

Castle also needed to get the mystery man to stop thinking it might be possible that he could feed Beckett to the wolves. "And I wouldn't count on the dragon being distracted by Beckett either. Now that she knows about you, she'll be hunting you too. And she's good, so good that the dragon may just let Beckett find you for him. At the very least, I'm thinking Beckett's safe while you're alive. Killing Beckett first might complicate things, because the dragon can't be sure how you'd react, what you might do if you've failed Roy."

It was time to get Roy's friend to begin imagining what awaited him. "When the dragon catches you - and we both know he will - it won't be quick and painless. He can't solve his problems by just killing you, like he can with Beckett. The dragon will need whatever Roy sent you, plus he'll need to make sure that you haven't squirreled away multiple copies, maybe some on a dead man's switch. So that means torture until the dragon's sure he knows everything."

"You've started believing your own books," the mystery man scoffed.

This time, Castle could reply with absolute certainty. "Not fiction; personal experience. He's done it that way before, a few years ago having Lockwood torture Ryan and Esposito to find out what they knew. Ryan was about to be kneecapped before we stopped Lockwood."

"I suppose you have a solution to all my problems?" Roy's friend stated in a tone that made it clear he already knew what Castle wanted.

"The way I see it, your only way out starts with giving whatever you have to the police. In exchange, you demand protection, maybe entry into a WitSec program, until they put the dragon away."

Roy's friend sneered."And in your story, Mr. Castle, what happens to Montgomery's reputation, and Evelyn and the girls? Scandal like that, Montgomery gets trashed all over by the press, people diving for political cover so his pension almost certainly gets forfeited, leaving his family with nothing. Evelyn's a young woman, the girls are off to college soon. You know, truth is, I don't care a whit about Detective Beckett. I have a debt to repay Roy, and he asked me to keep Beckett safe. Repaying him by destroying his reputation and his family won't cancel that debt."

Castle replied with some heat of his own."There's not a damn thing that can be done about what'll happen to Roy's reputation. You don't care a whit about Beckett, I care even less about Roy's reputation. A lot of people have suffered and died for what he did and then his years of cowardice, so he doesn't deserve his reputation. And losing it is inevitable no matter what you do. Someday Beckett or someone will figure out who the dragon is and what he's done, and then Montgomery's role will come out. Delaying that day of reckoning by getting you and Beckett killed isn't the repayment that Roy asked from you."

Castle paused to soften his tone, before addressing the other issue. "However, what I can do, if you turn over Roy's info to the authorities, is to make sure Evelyn and the girls don't suffer financial loss. No matter everything else Roy was, he was my friend too, and I won't see his family suffer from this, not when I can help it."

Roy's friend was silent for more than a few seconds, before he sighed and spoke. "I'll give your 'story' some thought, and check with a few of my resources. We may speak again soon."

Castle needed to push this piece of his plan to resolution, so he shared his increasing concern. "Best be quick about it. This story should have a happy ending in which everyone lives and justice is done, and there may not be much time before Roy's files lead the dragon to you. The whole thing feels like it's quickly accelerating to an end, and I think you feel it too. When you want to talk with me again, leave a message at my usual number; I'll keep checking at the top and bottom of the hour. Oh, and don't waste your time calling this number; it won't ring and there's no voicemail."

* * *

Castle spent the next couple of hours hunched over his laptop, working steadily. It was an unnatural position for him; he much preferred to type stretched out and leaning back, feet on his desk, laptop low, resting where its name said it was meant to be. But he was finally at a place he could stop. Taking one last look before doing a final save and shutting down, he admired his work. _Definitely not professional, but more than good enough to start_.

The next stop was coming up, so Castle busied himself securing the laptop in his backpack, and then packing up the rest of his things. He'd separated the cell phone he'd used to talk with Roy's mystery friend from its battery and bagged them separately, and placed them in the backpack next to the other bags of separated burner phones and batteries that he'd used earlier. Castle didn't really think there was any reason anyone would be trying to track him by cell phone, but he hadn't lied to his mother and Alexis. He wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks, or with those he'd been calling. So he'd left his personal cell phone back in the loft, and he was using burner phones as he went. _Burning through the burner phones_ , he thought with more lightness than he had expected at this point in the day. Then again, his day was largely proceeding according to plan. Castle had completed the parts of the plan that he'd thought would prove most difficult. Now, he was almost ready for one step in his plan that he was definitely looking forward to – getting something to eat and then taking a healthy nap.

Castle could feel the train beginning to slow as it approached the next station. Gathering his things, he moved to a train door to wait for the stop.

"Mr. Adams? . . . Mr. Adams? . . . John?"

It was the 'John' that finally registered with Castle. He quickly turned toward the voice, and saw that it was the conductor. "Oh, hi, uh . . . "

"Mr. Adams, the upcoming stop will be our Baltimore Washington International Airport station. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. It was a long night and early morning, what with the last-minute change in plans, and no one calls me Mr. Adams, or John. It's Jack."

The conductor looked at Castle quizzically, like her curiosity had been pricked by Castle's overly-informative response, and she might be taking a harder look at Castle and re-evaluating him.

Castle turned away toward the train door, peering through the door's window, like he was looking for something. "I thought I'd get some fresh air, stretch my legs a bit. No offense, the seat's kinda cramped. I was also hoping I could find something to grab at the station and bring it back in to eat."

"Oh, feel free to step out but we'll only be stopped for a few minutes. And don't bother looking for anything to eat; station's at a parking garage. You have to shuttle a couple of miles to the airport."

"Oh, I guess I shoulda spent more than a minute or two on Amtrak's website. Probably could've figured that out."

"No worries. Stop after Baltimore is DC's Union Station. We have a scheduled stop there for 30 minutes. That should give you time to get off and walk a bit, and grab something."

The conductor hadn't told Castle anything he didn't already know. But he'd hoped to avoid Union Station, thinking that the Baltimore station would make for a more anonymous place to leave the train. _Maybe Union Station would be better; being seen leaving the train during a 30-minute stop wouldn't be unusual._ "That'll work," he told the conductor, as he moved to retake his seat for the 30 minutes into DC.

* * *

"Well, I don't trust her," Esposito said as he helped clean-up the conference room. Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan had just finished a lunch that they'd delayed by silent agreement so they could have the conference room to themselves.

"Javi, not that I'm disagreeing, but you're not exactly the most trusting person," Ryan replied on his way back from the trash can. "Remember, we all did a fair amount of checking when she was assigned to the 12th, and she came up clean. She didn't have a lot of fans, what with her stint in AI, but no one thought she wasn't an honest cop. And she did admit she thinks that the 12th's got a mole."

"Which is exactly what the mole would say to deflect attention," Beckett retorted dismissively.

"You think she's the mole?" Esposito asked.

"I, I just don't know," Beckett admitted. "I do know that she shut down the investigation into my shooting pretty quickly. A public shooting like that, you'd think it would have been a higher priority, and that someone at IPP or City Hall would have wanted to see results. Hell, she's rode us harder to close other cases with less publicity. Real problem is she's done nothing that proves she isn't working with my mom's murderer."

Suddenly the conference room door flew open, revealing Gates in an obviously agitated state. "My office, now. You all need to see this," she said before turning heel and marching quickly back toward her office. The team exchanged questioning glances, and hurried to follow in the wake Gates was leaving.

As Beckett and the boys entered her office, Gates was already behind the desk and swinging her monitor around to face the three of them. "I got a call about this from 1PP, someone there saw it live. It's posted on the station's website, but this is from YouTube, and it's already had over 100,000 views in less than 30 minutes."

Gates moved the cursor's arrow over the 'Play' arrow, clicked, and then clicked full screen.

There were two women sitting at an anchor's desk, and the co-anchor on the right was speaking.

"Tonight, a change of programming that you just might find _rewarding_. As in cash."

Her co-anchor on the left took the toss. "Tonight at 10 pm Kristina Cottera has an exciting last-minute guest change. For those of you looking forward to Fred Willard's visit, Kristina promises he'll be rescheduled soon. Tonight, Kristina's very special guest will be mystery writer and frequent Page 6 subject Richard Castle. But tonight's not about his latest conquests, or the latest Derek Storm best seller. You may remember last year when the inspiration for his fictional character Nikki Heat was nearly killed by a sniper at a police funeral. Well, seems like the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Tonight Richard Castle will be laying out the real life, unsolved mystery behind the murder of Nikki Heat's mother, a murder he says is tied to police corruption."

The co-anchor on the right took it back. "Richard Castle's here tonight, looking for help in solving the mystery and in finally bringing the person ultimately responsible for that murder to justice. And he's putting up _$1,000,000_ in cold hard cash out of his own pocket to reward those who help him do just that. Join Kristina Cottera for all the details of how you can help, and get some of that cash for yourself. Tonight at 10, right here on News WHNY."


	7. Spit Takes

**Chapter 7: Spit Takes**

Getting out of the city had taken a bit longer than had been expected, but Martha and Alexis had arrived at Babylon shortly after noon. They got a short tour of the house from Tim on the way to their respective bedrooms to deposit their bug-out bags. After freshening up, they gathered in the kitchen. Martha and Alexis hadn't taken advantage of the feast that had been prepared that morning, both having lost all interest in food after Castle's pronouncements. Now, they were hungry. Shopping for fresh food would come later, but the kitchen was fully stocked with canned and frozen food, so they went about making a quick lunch.

While they ate, Alexis had her iPad on a kitchen counter streaming the mid-day TV news from New York City. Like the entire morning had been, it was outside the norm to have a TV on during a meal, but both Alexis and Martha felt the need to re-connect with the world. Tim hadn't permitted any use of cell phones or the Internet on the drive to Winchester due to security protocols, making the two wait until they reached the secure and anonymized Internet connection at Babylon.

"I can't help but think what I'd be doing right now, getting ready for my speech and the after-party, if it weren't for Beckett's . . ."

"Wait, what was . . . ," Martha interrupted. She had been fully engaged in the conversation with Alexis, but that part of the brain that was always subconsciously listening for trigger words had registered 'Richard Castle.'

"What was what?"

"Shhh, sorry, listen."

". . . apple didn't fall far from the tree. Tonight Richard Castle will be laying out the real life, unsolved mystery behind the murder of Nikki Heat's mother, a murder he says is tied to police corruption. . . . Richard Castle's here tonight, looking for help in solving the mystery and in finally bringing the person ultimately responsible for that murder to justice. And he's putting up $1,000,000 in cold hard cash out of his own pocket to reward those who help him do just that. Join Kristina Cottera for all the details of how you can help, and get some of that cash for yourself. Tonight at 10, right here on News WHNY."

Alexis' stomach hit the floor, and she was impossibly pale. "Did you . . ."

Martha was similarly aghast. "No, I have no idea what your father is up to. He promised me that he was going straight to Captain Gates and the police after we left. We need to call him. Do you have the phone he gave you? Mine's upstairs."

Tim had been posted discretely off the kitchen, and had overheard everything. Entering the kitchen, he commanded, "No cell phones, please. Use the landline; it's also secure."

While Alexis retrieved the cellphone that her father had given her that morning to look-up the programmed phone number, Tim left the kitchen to move into the security office that had once been a den. He used another secure line to dial his firm. "This is Fizbin One. All quiet here, but that might change. Have you heard from Mr. Adams? He may have a developing situation."

* * *

"Hi, you've reached Richard Castle. Lucky you. But not lucky enough, or you'd be speaking to me now. You'll just have to live in anticipation of when we do talk. If you'll leave a message with your phone number, I'm sure we'll both get lucky soon."

 **[B-E-E-P]**

"I, uh, really hope you didn't let this go to voice mail because you saw it was me calling. Oh, sorry, it's me, Kristina, 212-555-0004. Ricky, I am soooo sorry. It didn't do it, I swear. I had no idea that promo was going to run. It was my weasel of a producer - who will be gutted like a fish 'cause that son of a bitch _must_ pay. I had to tell him what you'd be talking about tonight, why you would be so much better than hearing about Fred Willard's next project. But Lou knew we could only announce you as tonight's guest, and I made him promise to tease only that you had a big surprise announcement like we agreed. Please call me to confirm for tonight, and I promise you, I _will_ make it up to you. Blue's your favorite color, right? Ricky, please, please don't cancel on me tonight. Oh, and I hope all this doesn't cause any problems. Call me!"

* * *

Rare was the day that the Mayor had lunch by himself or with a personal friend or two. This was not one of those days. Instead, he was having a working lunch in his office with a few of his senior advisors, and a couple of their aids, getting briefed over the upcoming summer's events where the Mayor was expected to appear and have an official role.

Midway through the meeting, there was a slight rap on the office door before it opened. The executive assistant for the Director of Communications stuck in her head and spoke. "Jody, a minute, please?"

The Director of Communications stood up. "If you'll excuse me. Keep going."

The Director came back in the office after only a few moments, and interrupted the briefing. "Mayor, we seem to have a developing situation. WHNY is promo'ing an appearance tonight by Richard Castle, and that he'll be talking about police corruption and a murder. On Cottera's show at 9."

"Have we confirmed that?" asked the Mayor's Chief of Staff.

"I have people on my staff assigned to watch all of the local newscasts live. One saw the promo, and alerted his boss. We've already checked the station's website, and there's a video clip of the promo on its splash page. We should have a transcript of the clip in a few minutes, but we can watch first if you want."

Before his Director of Communications finished speaking, the Mayor was on his feet, headed to his desk and his PC. "Let's do that." He pulled up the station's website, and clicked on the video.

"Tonight, a change of programming that you just might find _rewarding_. . . . Tonight Richard Castle will be laying out the real life, unsolved mystery behind the murder of Nikki Heat's mother, a murder he says is tied to police corruption. . . . looking for help in solving the mystery . . . And he's putting up _$1,000,000_ in cold hard cash . . . Tonight at 10, right here on News WHNY."

" _Jesus, Rick,_ " the Mayor muttered under his breath.

There was a moment or two of silence before the Director began strategizing. "My office'll be getting press requests for a comment, if we haven't already. We need to prepare an official statement for immediate use, maybe reactive, maybe general release, saying the Mayor has no comment beyond the fact that he is not aware of what Mr. Castle can or will say. Clarice, can you go back to the office, and start drafting? Take a look at previous statements, see if there's something that we can adapt for this."

The Mayor spoke up, his voice flat. "Clarice, please add that I plan to be watching. I can always use a little extra money. This City's damned expensive."

"I don't think you should be making light of allegations of police corruption. You have an election . . ."

The Mayor responded, with a bit more force. "Clarice, put it in the draft. A decision will be made on whether to leave in the final or not."

The Mayor's Chief of Staff spoke up. "I think this meeting is over." Directing his attention to the head of the Department of Parks and Recreation, the Chief continued, "Commissioner Leslie, sorry but events. I think I can cover the rest with the Mayor later but if not, someone will call with any questions or to reschedule."

The Mayor's office emptied out to leave only the Mayor, the Chief of Staff, and the Director of Communications. As soon as the door was closed, the Mayor's Chief of Staff spoke. "Our number one goal is to keep you as far away from this as possible. You've got an election next fall, and we don't want you dragged into this, whatever this is."

"Aren't you going to ask me if I know what Castle's talking about, or what he's going to say tonight?"

The Chief ignored the question, shaking his head. "Mayor, with all due respect, we need to treat this as serious until we know otherwise. Goddamn it. You can always count on the police department to serve up a nice, juicy scandal when it's least helpful. Add in Richard Castle's celebrity, and this is likely to blow up big."

The Director jumped in. "I'll have someone pull info on, uh, Nikki Heat, whatever her real name is . . ."

"Detective Katherine Beckett, 12th Precinct, Homicide. I know her," the Mayor said. "First met at a charity event, and then I spoke with her a few month's later at the launch party of Castle's first Nikki Heat book."

"OK, on Detective Beckett then, and start digging for some basic facts - when was her mom murdered, status of case, et cetera. Find out whether the Nikki Heat books have been selling, maybe we'll be able to go deep background with a reporter or two, and suggest it's all an outrageous publicity stunt to increase collapsing book sales, that a ne'er-to-well celebrity is using them for free advertising for his pulp books, that sort of thing."

The Chief, knowing he needed to tread lightly, gently said, "Bob, we need to separate you from the story, and you from your friend. A friend for whom, if memory serves, you pulled a few strings to have him embedded in the 12th. We may have to give you plausible deniability on that. At the risk of being too blunt, this may get ugly for Mr. Castle as well as your relationship."

"Plausible deniability," the Mayor noted resignedly, thinking back on his early morning call from Rick that also sought to provide him that. "And what you really mean is, that we may have to get ugly. We're not going there any faster than we have to. I want to see any press release before it goes out."

"Mayor, I'm not sure that's wise. It would . . .," the Director said before the Mayor asserted himself.

"Before," Mayor Bob Weldon said in a tone that clearly indicated that discussion was over.

As they continued to talk, Weldon's executive assistant poked her head in the door. "Mayor, the DA's on Line 1."

"Thanks, Maureen. I'll talk with him. Can you find out if the Police Commissioner is available in 15 minutes? I'll want to talk with him when the DA and I are finished."

* * *

She had sensed the presence lingering outside of her door for a few minutes before she heard a soft knock. She ignored it, and waited for something with more energy behind it. More than a few seconds later, there was a more audible knock against the door jam, followed by "Ms. Haas?"

Paula responded without turning around from looking at the work on the monitor connected to her laptop. "Abby, I told you to call me Paula. Trust me, it'll be easier for you if we're on a first-name basis when I yell at you."

Abby nodded and thought, _I shoulda waited for Monday to start_. It was Abby's first day of her summer break and her first day as an unpaid intern at the agency, and she was alone in the office with the agency's namesake. She'd already asked to start today and was making arrangements to show up weeks ago, when Ms. Haas' assistant had mentioned that she would be out starting at noon on Abby's scheduled first day, and the associate agent would be out the entire day. Abby's immediate reaction was to ask to change her start day to Monday when both would be back in the office, but she held her tongue, afraid that would be interpreted as being intimidated by having to deal directly with Ms. Haas. Of course Abby was, but she didn't want to give anyone an obvious reason to think that right off the bat.

Abby started again. "OK, Paula, is it OK if I go get something to eat? No one said anything about lunch time, so I haven't eaten."

"Kid, you'll find in this job that your 'lunchtime' is whenever the opportunity presents itself. So sure, if now works for you."

"Thanks, I won't be gone long." Abby had turned to leave, and realized she might be able to score a few quick points with her summer boss; plus, it was simply good manners. Abby turned back to Paula. "Can I bring you something back?"

Paula answered without turning. "No thanks. I have a social event after work – and by social I mean business, because all events are business – so I brought something for late afternoon. A tip – never eat more at an event than you have to, in order to be polite. Can't do business with a mouthful of food."

Abby turned to leave again, but Paula spoke again, still staring at her monitor. "How's it going? Find anything interesting?"

Abby thought she'd clearly been given an afterthought assignment that morning, left with Ms. Haas' assistant by the associate agent before he left Thursday night for a long weekend. The 'assignment' had been familiarizing herself with Paula's clients and their web presences, including official webpages, fan sites, and social media accounts. Abby had been learning all she could about the agency's clients since she'd gotten the internship; she figured that was the only way to avoid needless embarrassment. The rest of her assignment had ranged from boring to really boring, with the Internet pretty quiet on this Friday in late spring when it came to Ms. Haas' clients. Well, at least until the last few minutes.

"To me, it's all new and interesting," Abby said, causing Paula to simultaneously roll her eyes and mentally bite her tongue as she continued working, still turned away from Abby. "But not much activity until the last few minutes when WHNY really started pushing tonight's appearance by Richard Castle. Can't wait, that should be interesting." Abby turned again to leave. "Oh, well, if you're sure you don't need anything."

Paula snapped around to face Abby. "Excuse me, did you mention Rick Castle and TV?"

Abby turned back, and for the first time in this exchange was face-to-face with Paula. "Yeah, you know, on WHNY's Kristina Cottera show. And that $1,000,000 reward thing? Genius. Mentions really picked up after the noon news, when WHNY ran the promo and really started to push it on social media, and his fans are really responding. All your idea?"

"They're advertising Richard Castle's on TV tonight? My Richard Castle?"

Abby spoke hesitantly, confused. "Well, yeah. You know, the interview where he'll be talking about Detective Beckett's mother, and some police conspiracy."

"Great, about time they ran it. . . . Sooo, if I wanted to see the promo, where could I find it?"

"May I?" Paula nodded, and Abby scurried around Paula's desk to her laptop, popped up a browser, and went to WHNY's website to start the video from the midday news. "Tonight, a change of programming that you just might find _rewarding_. As in cash. Her co-anchor on the left took the toss. . . . Tonight at 10 pm Kristina Cottera has an exciting last-minute guest change. For those of you looking forward to Fred Willard's visit, Kristina promises he'll be rescheduled soon. Tonight, Kristina's very special guest will be mystery writer and frequent Page 6 subject Richard Castle. . . ."

At the confirmation that it was indeed her Richard Castle, Paula pressed pause and spoke, smiling at Abby. "Very nice work, Abby. Very impressive on your first day. Now, why don't you head out, go get lunch?"

Abby noticed that the smile on Paula's face didn't quite reach her eyes. "Everything all right, Ms. Haas, uh, Paula? I can stay if you want."

Paula continued with the same smile. "No, I'm good. Go get something to eat. And take your time; you've earned it." Paula turned her attention back to the screen, her left hand shooing Abby off while her right moved to click on the video's play icon.

" . . . the latest Derek Storm best seller. You may remember last year when the inspiration for his fictional character Nikki Heat was nearly killed by a sniper . . ."

"Well, OK, if you're sure," said Abby as she hesitantly backed out of Paula's office.

As soon as Paula heard the outer office's front door close behind Abby, Paula picked up the receiver on the desk phone and dialed Cottera's producer from memory. She was no longer smiling. "Lou, what the hell? You know better than to ever, I mean ever, schedule my clients directly. . . . I'm sorry, what? . . . He called you? . . . He called Kristina and booked himself? When? . . . Are you sure he called, and it wasn't some other agent or manager? . . . OK, OK. Listen, I'm going to email you Rick's standard rider with the food, drink and music he requires in the green room. You make sure it's there, or he will _not_ be appearing, you understand me? . . . Good, glad that's settled. I'll see you at 8. And I don't want any problem with security when I get there. Bye now."

 _Now, back to the video_. Paula took control of her laptop, and ran the video again, pausing and backing up to study parts of it multiple times. Finally, she let it finish.

Paula dialed Castle's number and went to his voice mail. _Ducking me? Well, you should be afraid_ ,she thought as she hit the # key to skip over his outgoing message. "Whatcha you doin' here, Rick? I mean, if you woulda come to me, I coulda made this yuge. Well, it's still gonna be yuge anyway, but now I'm working from behind and we'll have to catch the wave. But we'll make it work together. Call me so we can plan out the publicity campaign before I see you at the station tonight; you know how I get when you don't return my calls. We can also talk about the new book I heard in that promo, maybe even a non-fiction thriller? You can't pass up a great opportunity to expand your fan base. Talk soon. Oh, and gee, Rick, when I told you to get her out of your system, I meant the _usual_ way." Paula hung up, finishing her thought. _I hope Rick's got what he needs for more Nikki Heats 'cause I bet the Detective and the NYPD are finished with him if that promo's anything close to right._

* * *

The elevator door opened, permitting Jim Beckett to exit on his way back to the office after his lunch run. He'd always been a runner, except for the time when he was a practicing alcoholic. Jim didn't run as far or as fast as he once did but after the events of the last year, he found himself extending his morning runs and had started running at lunch, schedule permitting.

After traversing his firm's lobby and exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist, he headed back to his office. His assistant Jennifer saw him coming around the corner, and held out a fistful of pink phone message slips. "Phone's been ringing off the hook the last 15 minutes. Theresa's is on the top; she wanted you to call as soon as you got back."

"Thanks Jen," he said as he took the message. Jim loved his sister, he truly did, but Theresa could be exhausting. She'd recently discovered social media, and the things she felt like sharing about family, mutual acquaintances, and a lot of people he didn't know. He hoped this wasn't about another "urgent" story about some old family friend he barely remembered.

She answered mid-way through the first ring. "Jimmy, are you OK? Do you need me to come over tonight? You know I told you and Katie that the writer was no good, but I didn't for a minute think that he'd use her like this. I thought with his reputation, he was interested in her for, well, you know, but never thought he'd do this to her. Or to you and the family."

"Slow down, Theresa. You'll need to start over, because I really don't know what you're talking about."

"That writer who uses Katie for his books, Richard Castle, he's on TV tonight to talk about Johanna and something to do with police corruption. 9 o'clock tonight, on WHNY."

Jim was taken aback by the news but skeptical, since it was his sister. "I've met Richard, and from what Katie's said over the years, that doesn't sound like him at all." _And he cares too much for Katie to do something like that_ , he left unsaid _._ "Are you sure it just wasn't a story about a new Nikki Heat book, what with the backstory of Heat's mother being murdered?"

"No, that's not what they said. Him being on tonight's show first popped up on my Timeline and Twitter feed, and I went and looked at the station's website, and watched a newscast clip advertising the show. They didn't mention Katie by name, but to me it was clear they said the writer was going to talk about dear Johanna. And on an entertainment show to boot! Go there and see for yourself, if you don't believe me."

"I'm sorry, what station?"

"WHNY, at .com. It's on the screen right when you get there."

"OK, let me go look. I'll call you back."

"Sure, Jimmy, but call back. I don't think this is something you should handle by yourself. If not me, then contact your sponsor before, OK, not after?"

Jim smiled at this sister's protectiveness, but he was still convinced that she had misunderstood. "I promise. I'll talk with you later. Bye."

Jim hung up and swiveled his chair to reach for his keyboard, the physical movement matching the swirl of his emotions. After logging on, he opened a browser and typed in the station's website, pausing before continuing in order to go through the routine he'd adopted during his rehab to prepare for possible stressful situations. It wasn't like he felt like he really needed the routine anymore, but his father was fond of saying 'Better to have and not need, then need and not have' so he took ten cleansing breaths to calm and center himself. When he was done, he hit the Enter key.

 _Well, Theresa was at least right about there being something about Richard on the first page._ Jim leaned forward and clicked on the arrow in the video window under the headline "Watch 'Here's Kristina!' tonight for Richard Castle's Reward Challenge for Helping to Solve a Murder!"

"Tonight, a change of programming that you just might find _rewarding_. As in cash. . . . Tonight at 10 pm Kristina Cottera has an exciting last-minute guest change. . . ."

As the clip ran on, Jim's right hand subconsciously reached up to loosen his tie and unfasten the top button of his shirt.

"Tonight Richard Castle will be laying out the real life, unsolved mystery behind the murder of Nikki Heat's mother, a murder he says is tied to police corruption. . . . and get some of that cash for yourself. Tonight at 10, right here on News WHNY."

The clip ended, Jim leaned away from the screen and rolled his chair away from computer, his eyes never leaving the screen. Jim went to take another ten cleansing breaths and instead gasped, realizing that he hadn't drawn a breath in more than a few seconds. At the end of his tenth cleansing breath, he continued, losing count of the number before he stopped.

Jim reached for his desk phone, and hit the speed dial. He didn't wait for a greeting when it was answered. "Jen, clear my calendar for this afternoon, and hold my calls." He hung up and had hit the speed dial to make a second call before Jen had an opportunity to ask if everything was alright. As the phone began ringing, Jim began to feel a bit of comfort. _Katie will know what's going on._

* * *

Cole Maddox's phone rang and displayed his employer's contact number for the second time that day.

"Yes?"

"We have a change in objective."

"Are you sure? I'm very close to identifying the mystery man. I've established a new ops base, and believe it will only be at most a few hours before I know who he is."

"Understood. But priorities have changed. Rick Castle is now a much more immediate concern."

"Same desired outcome?"

"No, repeat, no. Mr. Castle has announced his intention to go public. He must be seen as stopping himself, and publicly walking back from what he's already said. So the new objective is to take someone that provides us with leverage over Mr. Castle."

"Who?"

"His daughter is the obvious first choice. After that, either his mother or the Detective. But timing is more critical than who. We must establish leverage ASAP. Mr. Castle is going public tonight at 2100 hours, and we need to obtain leverage and establish contact with him by no later than 1930 hours, preferably earlier."

"Where?"

"He lives with his mother, and his daughter, so the Broome St. address."

"Additional resources?"

"Being moved into position, but you can't wait for that. Proceed immediately."

"Roger. I'll let you know after the objective has been achieved."


End file.
